


Curious and Curly

by sushilushy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, F/M, My First AO3 Post, Romance, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushilushy/pseuds/sushilushy
Summary: "Trevelyan wanted to hit her head against the wall. This was not the time to pursue a doomed relationship. Even if Cullen could come to love a mage, there was a deranged, powerful darkspawn out there wielding an ancient elven artifact, riding an Archdemon, commanding an insane red templar army, planning to assassinate the Empress of Orlais with a legion of demons and become a god. Not to mention the civil war in Orlais and simmering mage-templar conflict.And none of this rationality helped much. It seemed she would just have to do her duty as Inquisitor and pine after her own Commander."Releases are temporarily out of order. Events will cover aaaaaaaaaall of Inquisition. Maybe before, maybe the DLCs, and maybe after. Aiming to write a more realistic version of the Inquisitor, one who isn't all invincible sunshine and rainbows, but also isn't all mopey rainstorms.





	1. It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leila watched in morbid fascination as the sky tear crackled and grew before a stab of pain sent her kneeling and whimpering on the ground. The mark on her hand throbbed and burned, as if someone was simultaneously setting fire to and ripping apart her palm.
> 
> Cassandra continued. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.”
> 
> Painful death by magical apocalyptic mark was very, very low on Leila's list of preferred methods of death. "You say it may be the key. To doing what?"
> 
> “Closing the Breach. Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! It's been ages since I've posted my first side chapter ( '-') ...please forgive me. I'm so self-conscious about my work, haha. In any case, I've got a lot written, so mah gawd this will be quite the train ride. 
> 
> I prefer to keep things pretty canon, so you'll see a lot of the dialogue here came straight from Inquisition. If you read a lot of these, you might find that a little boring. I'm sorry. I've added new descriptions and such in an attempt to make it s p i c y :>
> 
> Leila Evelyn Trevelyan is a human mage Inquisitor. As for the rest of her, I hope it peeks through through the text. Enjoy!

Low murmuring voices. Someone was holding her left hand.

"I have managed to contain it from killing her for now. Whether it can close rifts, however, remains to be seen."

Leila stirred slightly.

"She's coming to," the voice said.

Another person spoke. "Be cautious. We don't know what this mage is capable of."

Her eyes opened, but there was a light nearby and that was all she could see. She was horribly disoriented, as if she'd slept overly long.

"Who are you?" the second voice demanded. Where was she? Who was that? She shrank back, scared.

"Trev--" she started, then coughed. Her throat was dry. She started to make out the shape of a man hovering above her. "Trevelyan. Leila Trevel--Agh!" An intense, stabbing pain in her left palm made her scream out and her vision go white. She slumped back, unconscious.

 

* * *

 

When she next floated to consciousness, she was on a cold stone floor. She raised a hand to rub her forehead, except her hand was so heavy? She looked down. Her wrists were chained together with manacles. A green light glowed from her left palm in a mark she never remembered having. Everything was sore, especially her head. _Prisoner? …Where?_ She cautiously shuffled forwards towards the gate to her small cell. A hallway spread to the left and right. Leila peered through the bars to the left. Nothing but empty cells. She looked towards the right. More empty cells, and a figure at the end of the hall. She could barely make it out, but what looked like a man sat watch at a small round table lit by a half-burned candle and seemed to be dozing off.

"Hello?" Leila's voice squeezed out, awkward and quavering. "Pardon me."

The man's head jerked up. He threw one frightened glance towards her cell and burst through a door located behind him.

"Wait, please! I--where am I?"

The door shut loudly behind him, and Leila flinched at the sound.

She crawled back to the corner of her cell and waited for something to happen. To her dismay, she realized she wasn't wearing her own clothes. Evidently someone with little to no fashion sense had dressed her in some kind of hemp-woven garb. Leila wrinkled her nose a little. At least it was passably clean. Her hair, thankfully, wasn't as much of a mess, given that it was usually tied into a low bun. Her body seemed to be unmarked, other than that strange scar on her hand. She tried to gather her thoughts, but her head hurt whenever she tried to think. Leila closed her eyes and breathed slowly, gently pulling on the Fade every time she inhaled. She let the warm energy coalesce in front of her face into a single pinprick. She thinned it into a line, and then a web that grew ever finer, a veil that would drift down over her body, ease the ache she felt everywhere. A wave of dizziness broke her concentration, and the spirit magic dissolved immediately. Leila opened her eyes, and her lips twisted slightly. If only she had a staff! Or some food and water. Both would be preferable. She laid down on her side, resting her head in the crook of her arm, waiting for the dizziness to pass. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

The sound of a door being burst open echoed down the hallway. The sound of multiple footsteps rapidly approached Leila's cell. Her eyes snapped open. The man who had been keeping vigil at the table unlocked the door, and Leila shrank back. _A Templar._ A woman impatiently pushed the templar aside, and stormed in.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you." An angry short-haired woman in armor circled Leila, who was still trying to make sense of the situation.

The Conclave…yes! Yes, she had been there. But then what had happened? Everyone was dead?

The short-haired woman grabbed Leila's left wrist, dragging the mage to her feet. The mark crackled with green energy.

"Explain this!"

She genuinely could not. Not even as a lie. She stammered. "I…can't. You…didn't do this to me?"

Eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, you can't?"

"I…don't know what that is or how it got there."

"You're lying!" The angry woman let go and moved to hit her. Leila flinched, but a hooded woman drew the first one back.

In a lilting Orlesian accent, she reminded the first. "We need her, Cassandra."

Leila struggled to remember, but there was nothing. The world spun. "I can't believe it. All those people…dead," she whispered. If she had truly been responsible… no small wonder that she'd been locked up.

The hooded woman was asking questions now. "Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Thinking hurt. Everything hurt, everywhere. Leila shut her eyes. "I remember running. Things were chasing me. And then… a woman?"

"A woman?" the hooded one asked sharply.

"She reached out to me, but then…" She shook her head to clear it, but no clarity came. Just painful, hazy confusion.

The one named Cassandra spoke to the other. "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift."

Leliana nodded and left.

Cassandra and Leliana…familiar names, unfamiliar faces. Everything was jumbled. "What did happen?"

Cassandra replaced the manacles with rope and grunted grimly. "It will be easier to show you." She dragged Leila outside. The mage looked at the sky and gasped. _Maker_ …

"We call it the Breach. It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

A massive tear in the Veil caused by an explosion? Possible, but the amount of magic required…she could not possibly have caused this. Did she? How could she have? She shook her head. "A simple explosion can do _that_?" Surely she'd remember an explosion that large. And she could not remember _anything_ about the Conclave. Strange.

The warrior answered drily. "This one did. Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world."

Leila watched in morbid fascination as the sky tear crackled and grew before a stab of pain sent her kneeling and whimpering on the ground. The mark on her hand throbbed and burned, as if someone was simultaneously setting fire to and ripping apart her palm.

Cassandra continued. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.”

Painful death by magical apocalyptic mark was very, very low on Leila's list of preferred methods of death. "You say it may be the key. To doing what?"

“Closing the Breach. Whether that’s possible is something we shall discover shortly. It is our only chance, however. And yours.”

How… it could not have been her. It just wasn't possible--and why would anyone want to do this? "You still think I did this? To myself?” This was all utterly absurd, too much so to even be a nightmare. And she remembered now--Cassandra Pentaghast and Leliana were the right and left hand of Divine Justinia V.

“Not intentionally. Something clearly went wrong.”

Leila was still reeling from the implications of it all. If what the Seeker said was true…then a tear in the Veil would call countless demons. Maybe it already had. She breathed in. For now, she would do what she could, whether or not it was connected to her. “I understand.” 

“Then…?” 

“I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes.” Maker forbid it had really been her fault.

Cassandra looked surprised, and the permanent scowl affixed to her face faded a little. She nodded at Leila and cut the rope binding her hands together. "Follow behind me. And keep an eye out for any threats that may appear."

"Understood." Leila rubbed her wrists gingerly and began to follow the Seeker. She shivered slightly and looked out at the snowy valley that stretched before them. A formidable range of equally frosty peaks hovered in the distance against a roiling green sky. If she hadn't been moved far from the Conclave, then those must be the Frostback Mountains.

The pair hurried along the trail that led towards the Breach in the sky in silence. Leila tried to remember something, anything about the Conclave. "Lady Pentaghast," she said suddenly.

"What is it?" The Seeker's tone was disapproving.

"If everyone at the Conclave died, is the Divine also…" Leila's voice trailed off a little. Cassandra didn't answer, and kept forging ahead at an even greater speed. Leila scrambled to follow.

When Cassandra finally spoke, her voice was slightly bitter. "Divine Justinia is dead."

Leila's heart sunk. The last hope for peace between the mages and templars gone in the explosion, like anyone else.

There was a rumble as something fell from the Breach. It hurtled and slammed into the ground before them. Cassandra held up a hand. "Stay behind me!" The Seeker unslung the shield from her back and unsheathed her sword. She advanced towards the green puddles that formed from the impact--the same color as the breach itself. A figure materialized from a puddle in front of Cassandra.

Leila's heart pounded. Demons. So that thing in the sky, it really was a hole in the Veil. Another lesser shade rose up and hissed at Cassandra and the two demons began to attack. Leila had dealt with lesser demons before, but rarely did she ever see so many at once, and she'd never seen them fall from the sky.  She realized she was standing in the open, and crouched behind some wooden crates. Something hissed and bubbled behind her. She turned around to find one of the puddles had been there as well, and something was starting to form from it. _Shit. Shit shit shit._ Cassandra was fending off attacks, and didn't seem to notice. Thoughts raced through Leila's mind. Call out to Cassandra? No…that would draw even more attention. Run to another piece of cover? It was too far, she'd surely be noticed. It was almost fully formed. She could distract it by throwing something, the stick on the crate? That wasn't a stick, she realized _. It was a staff._ She snatched it up and stood, facing the shade. It reached its arms out towards her. Leila hurled a bolt of lightning from the staff towards the demon, stunning it. As it paused, the demon burst into flames and crumbled into ash. There were still two shades attacking Cassandra. Leila moved closer and began to pelt one of them with lightning, which gave Cassandra an opportunity to dispatch the other, and then quickly finish the battle.

Leila was a little surprised on how smoothly the whole affair had gone. Cassandra was obviously skilled. And angry. The Seeker leveled her sword to the mage's neck. Leila's eyes widened.

"Drop your weapon." Cassandra demanded.

Leila stood very still and slowly raised her hands to eye level. "I was only defending myself."

"Drop it." The blade edge pressed against Leila's skin. She reluctantly started to loosen her grasp on the staff. She could not even perform simple spirit magic without a focus in her weakened state. If she was attacked again…

Cassandra lowered her sword and pushed the staff back at Leila. "Wait," Cassandra frowned. "I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless. I should remember that you agreed to come willingly. Keep the staff. Maker knows what else we will meet out here."

 

* * *

 

The sounds of fighting could be heard in the distance, and Cassandra hastened the pace. She led Leila up a flight of stairs, but a broken wall interrupted the path. Fluidly, the Seeker vaulted over the wall and kept running. Leila was about to do the same, when the world swayed. She leaned against the wall. Right. She had a staff now. Leila hastily used some spirit magic on herself. It wasn't much, but at least it would prevent something like that temporarily. How long had it been since she'd last eaten? How long had she been asleep, really? She let herself drop down the wall and raced towards where several people were fending off shades and wraiths next to what seemed like a small tear in the air.

Cassandra had already joined the fray. There were two soldiers in uniform alongside her, as well as a bald elvish male wearing Maker-knows-what wielding a staff and a red-headed dwarf in a low-cut shirt holding a crossbow. Leila hurried into range and began attacking as well. Up close and in between the mage and the marksman, she was impressed with the relative ease and near-grace of the elf's movements as he froze and attacked demons. The dwarf seemed to be constantly talking (with a peppering of colorful language), but for all his talk, he was also extremely skilled.

As Leila gathered primal magic to set a wraith ablaze, it froze in place. She shot the mage to her left a quick glance of annoyance and changed the spell to arc lightning instead. The wraith shattered into pieces, and the lightning jumped to another mark. Another well-placed arrow from the dwarf, and no more demons were left standing.

The tear in the air began to crackle with green light. Shuddering and groaning, it seemed to stretch--

"Quickly, before more come through!" The elven mage grabbed Leila's left hand and held it up to the tear. Green energy flowed from the tear into the mark on Leila's hand, and she struggled against the man holding her. What on earth did he think he was doing? She felt a sudden impact in her palm that made her close her hand into a fist on instinct. The rift closed at the same instant, and the elf finally loosened his grip. She snatched her hand back. Leila looked wonderingly at the space where the rift had been. "What did you do?" She said, almost accusingly, at the other mage.

He put on a mild expression and shrugged. " _I_ did nothing. The credit is all yours."

"You mean this? The mark on my hand." Leila held her left palm up and scrutinized it for a second.

"Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake -- and it seems I was correct."

Cassandra cut in. "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

The elf glanced at Cassandra. "Possibly."  Then he turned towards Leila. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

The crossbow dwarf was sitting a little distance away, trying to catch his breath. "Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever." He hopped off the rubble he'd been sitting on and approached Leila, motioning to himself with a little flourish. "Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong." Then he winked at Cassandra, whose expression became so dark she could possibly be mistaken for a human thundercloud.

Leila looked at Varric curiously. His name sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it at the moment. "Leila Trevelyan. Are you with the Chantry, or…?"

The elvish mage chuckled. "Was that a serious question?"

Leila blushed, embarrassed. True, Varric didn't fit the type at all.

Varric grinned and looked pointedly at Cassandra. "Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you."

Cassandra crossed her arms. "I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly, that is no longer necessary."

"Yet here I am. Lucky for you, considering recent events."

"Ah…well, it's good to meet you, Varric," Leila continued.

"You may reconsider that stance, in time," the elf sighed. Varric gave him a pat on the back. "Aww. I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley, Solas."

Cassandra slung her shield on her back. "Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me," Varric countered, to which Cassandra made a noise half between growling and throwing up.

Solas looked faintly amused. "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I'm pleased to see you still live."

"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'" Varric put in as an aside.

Leila looked Solas in the eyes. "Then I owe you my thanks," she said, inclining her head slightly.

He shook his head. "Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process. Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power."

"Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly."

The four of them made ready to start moving. "Well, Bianca's excited!" Varric patted the wood of his crossbow.

"You named your crossbow Bianca?" Leila blinked.

"Of course. And she'll be great company in the valley," Varric replied naturally.

Cassandra motioned and yelled from ahead. "This way, down the bank. The road ahead is blocked."

 

 

* * *

 

Varric spoke up. "So I take it you're from the Free Marches?" He grunted as he loosed another crossbow arrow.

This dwarf was making conversation as the world was ending. How extraordinary. Leila shot a quick bolt of lightning from her staff before glancing to the rogue. "Sorry?"

"Accent. I'm from Kirkwall, but you're from… further east, maybe?" He loaded a new bolt.

"You just…listening to me talk feels odd."

"Shit!" Varric's shot narrowly missed a demon that was approaching Cassandra. "Ansburg? Ostwick? This is going to bother me."

"I… let's settle with Ostwick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't we all wish we were as sarcastic as Varric even in apocalyptic times like these?
> 
> Next up: Trevelyan meets Cullen. Oh my!


	2. Call the Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't want you running along to the Hinterlands yet, you hear me?" Adan growled at Leila, shaking a pestle indignantly at her. He started mashing embrium angrily while mumbling under his breath. "Never said I was a healer. They drag me in and say, heal her. Oh, what's killing her? Just magic. Bloody fuckin' magic. Do I look like a spirit mage?"
> 
> Leila's cheeks flamed. "Is there anything I can do to help? I am quite proficient in the spirit tree…"
> 
> Mash. Mash. Mash. "You're still here?" Adan snapped. "Like I said, you just woke up. Still weak. Go lay in bed or something. Or don't, I'm not your mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always found it weird how the Inquisitor just takes the whole situation in stride, like "I can't remember anything about the Conclave! But I must be innocent!" and then "Hahaha, I have this mark on my hand that nobody understands! I will save the world!"
> 
> That's why (unfortunately for her) this edition of Trevelyan has some self-doubts. I mean, come on, she's lived most of her life in a Circle tower. It's not an easy transition to make, for anyone.

Cassandra led Leila into the room at the end of the hall, where Leliana, a woman, and a man were waiting around a table. Leila looked at them with some curiosity. The woman was pretty and dark-haired, holding a pen and tablet. She was dressed in lovely yellow satin and a blue bodice. Expensive clothes in the Antivan style, Leila noted. Obviously educated--diplomat? Secretary?

She passed an eye over the man in armor. She almost blushed. He was also…very pretty. Their eyes met for a second. Leila stiffened immediately. There was no symbol adorning his attire, but she knew. He was a templar. What was this, then? Was he here to watch over her? Had she not done enough to prove her innocence?

Cassandra stepped forward to introduce him. "May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces."

Cullen frowned and passed a hand over his blonde hair. "Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through."

Leila nodded politely, still on edge. A templar as a commander made sense, she reasoned. Even so, it would do well to be careful around him.

Cassandra continued. "This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat."

The dark-haired woman smiled and made a half-curtsey. "I've heard much. A pleasure to meet you at last."

It was hard not to return that sweet smile, and Leila bowed slightly.

"And of course you know Sister Leliana." Cassandra finished.

Leliana began to speak. "My position here involves a degree of…"

"She is our spymaster," Cassandra said bluntly.

Leliana sighed. "Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra."

Leila mustered up a weak smile, wondering why exactly she was here. "Pleased to meet you all."

Cassandra nodded and launched into business. “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana said firmly, with a glance at Cullen, who immediately frowned.

“And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”

Cassandra slammed a hand onto the table. “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark–”

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so–” Cullen cut in, before he was interrupted by Leliana.

“Pure speculation.”

Cullen crossed his arms defensively. “I was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of.”

Josephine, ever the diplomat, sighed and settled things. “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically.”

The corners of Leila's mouth turned upwards wryly. "I would imagine so."

 

* * *

 

"I don't want you running along to the Hinterlands yet, you hear me?" Adan growled at Leila, shaking a pestle indignantly at her. He started mashing embrium angrily while mumbling under his breath. "Never said I was a healer. They drag me in and say, heal her. Oh, what's killing her? Just magic. Bloody fuckin' magic. Do I look like a spirit mage?"

Leila's cheeks flamed. "Is there anything I can do to help? I am quite proficient in the spirit tree…"

Mash. Mash. Mash. "You're still here?" Adan snapped. "Like I said, you just woke up. Still weak. Go lay in bed or something. Or don't, I'm not your mother."

"Of…of course," Leila stammered.

Leila backed out of the cabin feeling much like a whipped child. Although she'd just awoken yesterday afternoon, the extended bed rest was maddening. To be honest, she didn't want time to herself, with herself. Alone at those times, her thoughts invariably gravitated towards the Conclave. The Fade's echoes had implicated her innocence, but… a small part of her wondered. The Fade was a reflection of memories, painted by emotions, so no one could know for certain what had happened. Why couldn't she remember? Blast it all!

"I want to run away," she thought, looking at the sky outside.

But someone needs to close the Breach once and for all. There are rifts all over Thedas. Are you the kind of person who could stand by and watch the world fall?

She looked down at Haven. People hurrying to and fro, soldiers training in the distance, every last one depending on the mark on her left palm. And she knew she was not that kind of person.

A sudden fear flitted through her mind. I'm not strong enough to fix whatever this is. Not strong enough. You're not strong enough.

There was a lump in her throat. She was going to cry, and she hated that. She took off towards the lake, walking as fast as she could while forcibly blinking away the tears that began to cloud her vision. When the tears became too much to hold back, the walk turned into a sprint.

Leila ran until her lungs screamed and she tripped over a root, tumbling into the lake water. She sat there, completely sodden, chest-high in ice cold water. Indignant hysterical tears turned into gasping sobs of self-pity that racked the small mage's body.

Why her, of all people? Why this? She couldn't. Nobody could.

Leila calmed down very quickly, finding that icy cold water tended to have that effect. (Maker's breath, it was freezing!) She made a small fire on the shore and sat next to it while using her own heat magic to dry herself off.

Leila felt sheepish and straightened out her robe before walking back to her cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Trevelyan finds out who Curly is!
> 
> Oh Varric, you troublemaker.


	3. I'd Like That...Cullen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No!" He held up a hand between them. "No, I mean, what I meant to say is…I'm sorry. I can't imagine the kind of strain you've been under since…everything." He rubbed the back of his neck again and looked genuinely apologetic.
> 
> He was kind. Awkward. Warm. Stumbling with his words. You're unfair to him. She looked down, kicked a little snow with her boot. "It's all right. I appreciate everything you've done for the Inquisition, Commander. I don't know if I'm really the chosen of Andraste, but…" She turned her left palm upward and looked at it. "Since I have this mark, I'll do my best to close the rifts. Help however I can." Cullen watched her curl her fingers into her palm. It was lonely, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be still my heart. Mage Trevelyan and Cullen just aaaagh. They're so sweet. 
> 
> I'm afraid this Trevelyan isn't too religious, though she was raised to be.
> 
> Look, Ma! Real romance begins in this chapter!

“How are you getting along, Curious? Don't know what it was like in your circle, but hopefully Curly doesn’t bother you too much.”

Trevelyan laughed. “Other than almost deciding to execute me the first time we met, she’s been lovely,” then a pause, “Why is Cassandra curly?”

“What? No, you’ve got it all wrong,” Varric chuckled, “She’s Seeker. Cullen is Curly. Obvious, right?” Trevelyan’s face looked a bit blank, and it was Varric’s turn to pause. “Oh, right. You’ve never seen it,” he said with a wicked grin.

“Seen what?”

Varric leaned in and whispered something. Trevelyan’s eyes widened before she burst out laughing.

“It’s good, right?” Varric couldn’t help but join in with a conspiratorial laugh; he was glad the kid had a chance to act like one, instead of just being some Andrastian figurehead on a pedestal. When she finally composed herself, she smiled back at him. “Thanks, Varric. You almost made me cry.”

“That's what I'm here for, right?”

 

* * *

 

Trevelyan was still secretly and intermittently laughing to herself later in the day imagining the serious Commander Cullen carefully styling his hair in the early morning, when one of Leliana’s scouts came to fetch her. “Dispatch for you, serah.”

She was instantly the embodiment of solemnity. “What is it?”

“Sister Leliana requires you in the War Council.”

“Tell her I will be right there.” The scout nodded, crisply turned on his heel, and walked away. Trevelyan snapped the ledger in her hands shut and sighed. _Maker, I hope it’s nothing bad._ As much as she appreciated getting a say in the direction of the Inquisition, she felt awfully ill-prepared to be offering anyone counsel. House Trevelyan might be extremely devout, and she might have some personal knowledge of the Fade as a mage, but…surely this was nothing compared to the rest of the excellent people who'd assembled? She set the book down on a nearby table with a heavy thump—she hadn’t been paying much attention to it, anyway—and made her way to the Haven Chantry.

Polite nods left and right and a murmured, “How are you, Madame Vivienne?” “Lovely, dear, thank you for asking,” later, Trevelyan pushed open the heavy council doors. Inside, Leliana was speaking to the scout from before, Josephine was writing something, and Cassandra was poring over the map. Presently, the scout saluted and brought the doors to a shut behind him as he left.

“Oh Herald, thank goodness you’re here,” Josephine said, “This is…ah, a somewhat personal matter of yours.”

Trevelyan blinked. The atmosphere in the room felt much more relaxed than usual, given their past heated discussions of the Breach, mages, Templars… but personal matters? Her mind raced and panic mounted. Was there some Orlesian or Fereldan custom that she had wholly offended? Surely all that studying as a child had paid off. Oh Maker, someone found out about her Harrowing story? No, it couldn't be. It was the secretly sneaking fish from Threnn to feed the lake turtles--

“Herald?” Leliana broke in.

“What? I…Sorry. Please continue.”

“Yes, the issue involves your family. Perhaps you should read this.” Josephine handed Trevelyan a letter. Trevelyan let out a breath she hadn't even noticed holding in and skimmed the paper with interest.

 

_Dear Lady Montilyet:_

_It is true. Distant relations of the House Trevelyan are claiming “close friendship with the Herald of Andraste.” A boast is one matter, but the boundaries of tact and decency appear to be invisible to these mountebanks._

_During a ball in the south quarter, I witnessed a cousin five times removed from Lady Trevelyan threaten to have the Inquisition fight his rival! He quickly left the party after I made my connection with the Inquisition clear, but the problem stands. We must deal with the Herald’s relatives taking her name in vain._

_Lady Buttlefort_

 

Trevelyan’s brows furrowed with irritation. “Don't worry about hurting my feelings. I barely have dealings with Trevelyans, and that includes even my immediate family—” Trevelyan’s voice came to a stop, curious. “What do you think I should do, Josephine?”

“This sort of thing is, of course, inevitable. Your relations may become much more circumspect if we promise them future favors.”

“Leliana?”

“There are ways to indicate our displeasure without tipping our hand. I am not saying we send assassins, but the rumor of assassins...”

Before Trevelyan could continue with “Commander?” out of habit, Cullen entered the room. Inclining his head slightly, he started, “Sorry I’m late. A recruit managed to set himself on fire in his stupidity.”

A suspiciously violent cough came from Trevelyan, and everyone looked at her. She couldn’t help it, looking at Cullen made her think of "Curly." _Dammit, Varric._ She tore her gaze away from the top of his head to concentrate on the table. “I’m all right. I was working with…spindleweed earlier.” Her lips twitched, and it was everything she could do to turn them downwards into seriousness. Even so, the mischievous curve of her eyes betrayed her amusement, which only Leliana noticed.

Josephine came to the rescue. “We were discussing the matter of the Herald’s family, Commander.”

Cassandra continued, addressing Trevelyan. “I would not blame you if you wanted to ignore this matter completely. I know how idiotic fools clinging to distant relations can be, especially in the face of bigger issues.”

“I agree,” Cullen said, “I have no patience for all this posturing. The Inquisition isn't a name to throw around lightly, and we should openly denounce these people.”

“Thank you, Commander Cur-len,” Trevelyan caught her mistake. And caught herself glancing at his hair. Again. She cleared her throat. “As much as I would love to just ignore this matter or scare my relatives into silence, we could use all the allies we can get. Josephine, please proceed however you deem fit. Do make it clear that we won’t be fighting my cousin’s, ah, rival, however.”

“Of course, Herald.”

With that, Josephine nodded and left the room. Leliana followed after her. "Josie, I received a report that I think we could use to our advantage…" The door closed.

Cassandra scowled and turned back to the map. Was she scowling? It was always hard to tell with her, her face always looked displeased. Trevelyan considered this for the briefest of moments, head tilted to the side. It was such a waste, too. She'd looked so cute that one time she'd smiled, when the refugee hunter thanked them. Oh, well. Trevelyan patted Cassandra on the back. "Take a break Cassandra, worrying won't help. We'll figure it out." Cassandra turned to look at her, a little surprised. "Or…die trying, anyway," Trevelyan finished apologetically, walking towards the door. Cullen held the door open behind him. "Thank you, Commander. If you have time, I'll confess I'm curious to know how someone set themselves on fire."

Cullen chuckled. "I'm afraid the story involves more stupidity than comedy, Herald. The recruit was tasked with lighting a campfire for some refugees, and his long hair…well, it's considerably shorter now. I happened to be nearby, and rushed over towards the screaming. Had to tackle the idiot to the ground and force him to roll." He sighed. "Maker…I've no doubt some of these nobles join with honest intentions, but for all their fancy tutoring, you'd think they'd learn some common sense." He paused. "I…ah… no offense, Herald."

Trevelyan raised an eyebrow. "None taken." She fought the urge to drily blurt out 'As Varric likes to remind me, I don't have any common sense, anyway.'

They walked in stride towards the training grounds, exchanging polite conversation before parting ways. As Trevelyan headed towards the frozen lake, Varric's words flitted across her mind. _Hopefully Curly doesn’t bother you too much_. True, there had been some awkwardness, but the Commander had always been nothing but polite and accepting of her magic, even if he was cautious. She couldn't help thinking that if all the templars had been like Cullen, how nice it would have been. He treated her like a person rather than an apostate, a little like…the youngest templars in the Ostwick circle, the ones that hadn't learned to hold mages at arm's length in case they might need to kill them. The ones that would sneakily ask you to get leave to travel to the adjacent village so the girl they fancied could see them cut a dashing figure in shiny armor. The ones that got killed because they tried to talk down a possessed mage…silly Frederic.

She hiked out to the distant logging stand and sat, looking out towards the lake. Her enchanter's coat was thin for this weather. Shakily exhaled breath hung about her face like an icy wreath. How long had it been? A year? Two years?

Hopefully Curly doesn’t bother you too much.

Varric was sharper than he knew.

Maybe that was why she had held back from getting close to Cullen out of all the advisors. Trevelyan took the effort to chat with him, of course, but conversation with the Commander was polite formality. _Leila Trevelyan, you're unfair to him. He treats you like a person and you treat him like a templar._ She stood up annoyed at herself, brushing snow from her legs, and gathered elfroot as she walked back.

Mid-clip, she stopped. And why should she have to be friendly with him? Or anyone, for that matter? Her mouth set in a bitter line as she glared at the Breach. Andraste's Herald--what did it even mean? At least Andraste had heard the Maker's voice in her dreams. People looked at Leila as a beacon of hope, but she had nothing! No answers! Nothing! Snow began to fall lazily. Irritation and stress exploded in a burst.

"The world is about to be torn asunder, and we DON'T EVEN HAVE THE MAKER'S HOLY BALLS IN OUR FACE!" Trevelyan yelled at the sky. "Just because people find comfort in other names. Just because some crazy old man murdered Andraste thousands of years ago. Well, people die! We've all lost someone, so fucking get over it, you mopey g…BASTARD! FUCKING SELFISH!"

Snap.

Trevelyan flinched and swung around. It was just a ram that'd stepped on a twig and now looked at her passively, chewing something.

She relaxed a little and turned back towards resenting the sky (and the absent deity she imagined in it).

Then there was a sneeze. The ram pranced away, leaving Trevelyan frozen in place. Did rams have such deep sneezes? What about nugs? The entity sneezed again--it was definitely a man. Trevelyan turned reluctantly.

They stared at each other. Of all people, it was Commander Cullen. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I..uh.."

"Um, I…"

They spoke at the same time.

"Oh, sorry, you.."

"You can go first--"

Startled, they tried again.

"Well, you see--"

"This is--"

Cullen began to laugh. To her surprise, Trevelyan found herself laughing with him.

"Sorry," she said finally, "That was likely not something you wanted to hear the Herald of Andraste say."

"No!" He held up a hand between them. "No, I mean, what I meant to say is…I'm sorry. I can't imagine the kind of strain you've been under since…everything." He rubbed the back of his neck again and looked genuinely apologetic.

He was kind. Awkward. Warm. Stumbling with his words. _You're unfair to him._ She looked down, kicked a little snow with her boot. "It's all right. I appreciate everything you've done for the Inquisition, Commander. I don't know if I'm really the chosen of Andraste, but…" She turned her left palm upward and looked at it. "Since I have this mark, I'll do my best to close the rifts. Help however I can." Cullen watched her curl her fingers into her palm. It was lonely, somehow.

"If…if you'd like, I could call you by name. Instead of Herald. If being Andraste's chosen bothers you, that is." He blurted out on impulse.

Trevelyan surprised him with a sudden laugh. She looked up at him with a smile. "Would I call you by your name too, then? I'd like that…Cullen."

Maker, he felt shy all of a sudden. "Lei……Lady Trevelyan."

There was a pause. "Well… let's head back, shall we? Cassandra might think I'm a run-away apostate if I don't return soon."

"I…you're right. We can't have that, can we? It's not Cassandra you should worry about, though. It's actually Leliana you should be afraid of."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that! You're right, Leliana is the scary one. What do you think Josie is like when _she's_ angry?"

The banter flowed so naturally that it seemed like an instant before they reached Haven and parted ways.

Cullen wondered if it was just his imagination, or if their conversation felt…more real than usual. They usually discussed reports and nothing more. This was different, somehow. Warmer.

He was still thinking about this when he walked straight into Varric.

"Ow! Watch where you're going, Curly. See, this is why I keep talking all the time, so you don't forget I'm here."

"Sorry."

Varric gave a mock sigh. "I swear Curly, I always knew one day a beautiful woman would smile at you. Then you'd take it to heart, and lose your pretty head."

"I'm…what? No, I don't think of the Herald like that."

One could almost see Varric's ears perk up. The dwarf was positively grinning at this point. "The Herald of Andraste? I don't recall mentioning anyone, Curly. Got Curious on the mind?"

Cullen groaned. "That's not…we're at war, Varric."

"You never know, Curly. You could be her type." Varric waved as he walked away.

Cullen frowned as he took a last look at the empty training grounds and shook his head. Certainly, the Herald--Trevelyan was… MAKER'S HOLY BALLS IN OUR FACE! He remembered and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch that? Thankfully for Cullen, Leila and Lady start off with the same sounds ;)
> 
> Next chapter: Has Cullen taken any vows of celibacy? That conversation always makes me laugh. (The answer, of course, is no.)


	4. Have You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevelyan leaned forward a little, arms behind her back. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. "Have you?" she inquired. She couldn't help herself--he was so fun to tease.
> 
> He swore he could feel her breath tickle against his collar. Cullen felt the color rise in his face. He stammered, still unable to look at her. "Me? I… um… no. I've taken no such vows. Maker's breath -- can we speak of something else?" He took a small step backwards. Why did she enjoy this so much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you love teasing Cullen? Trevelyan certainly does!

After that day, Trevelyan started to open up around Cullen. He finally understood Varric's nickname for her-- Curious. She wanted to know details, he noticed. And it wasn't just towards him. Sometimes when Trevelyan came to talk to Cassandra (who always seemed to be slashing at practice dummies with a ferocity and stamina that terrified his recruits), Trevelyan would ask a question and the Seeker would groan "Why am I not surprised?"

Cullen didn't mind so much, although recently she had taken to teasing him. He spotted her by the stables, speaking to the Iron Bull's lieutenant--Krem, but what was his real name? Cremisius Aclassi? They were laughing together.

"Ser? Commander?"

Rylen was waiting with a report in hand. It seemed the situation in the Hinterlands was improving greatly after Trevelyan had taken down the apostate and rogue Templar camps and closed multiple rifts. Good, good. The supply lines would be running smoothly now and new recruits were trickling in. He gave Rylen a few commands, which the Lieutenant seemed to understand right away-- good man.

"Busy, Commander Cullen?" It was Trevelyan.

"Not at all. It seems your efforts in the Hinterlands have paid off so far. We might have enough influence to approach Therinfall or Redcliffe soon. The soldiers you rescued in the Fallow Mire have also returned safely."

She nodded. "I'm glad. And the refugees? How are they faring? It was madness out there."

"I can imagine," Cullen said grimly, "I saw some of the worst of the rebellion in Kirkwall's circle."

"We had a civil relationship with the templars in Ostwick. Until we were all apostates, of course." she said quietly. There was a lock of hair that fell, obscuring one eye. "If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to know more about the templars." She pushed the hair behind her ear.

He almost smiled. Curious, as always. "If you need insight into what the Order is doing now, I'm afraid I can't offer more than you already know. Anything else, I will answer as best I can."

She brightened up a little. "Why did you join the Order?"

Cullen shifted his weight a little. "I could think of no better calling than to protect those in need. I used to beg the templars at our local Chantry to teach me. At first they merely humored me, but I must have shown promise. Or at least a willingness to learn. The Knight-Captain spoke to my parents on my behalf. They agreed to send me for training. I was thirteen when I left home.”

"Thirteen -- that's still so young," Trevelyan said wonderingly.

“I wasn’t the youngest there. Some children are promised to the Order at infancy. Still, I didn’t take on full responsibilities until I was eighteen. The Order sees you trained and educated first.”

"That's true," she frowned, "You'd think I knew more. Most Trevelyans who aren't heirs usually pledge to the Chantry and the Order. 'Modest in temper, bold in deed,' and all that.  If I hadn't been a mage, perhaps I'd have been sent to the Chantry and married to some well-meaning templar by now. That's what Katelyn did. My sister."

Imagining vibrant and mischievous Trevelyan in Chantry garb was impossible. " _You_?"

A wicked smile spread across her face. "I can't see it, either. I guess Chantry scholar would be more likely?" She shrugged. "In any case, if you rearrange the letters of 'Trevelyan' you get 'very pious', so if I wasn't a mage, I doubt I could have done anything but settle into Chantry life without getting disowned."

"What--no it doesn't. There's no 'p' in Trevelyan?" Cullen realized too late that she was joking with him.

The smile widened just a little bit. "What about your family though-- did you miss them, being away at such a young age?"

“Of course. But there were many my age who felt the same. We learned to look out for one another.”

This earned him a nod. "Not too different from life as an apprentice, then. What do you think of mages? Are we all a threat?"

Cullen was a little surprised. Had he done anything to suggest he thought of her as a threat?

“I’ve seen the suffering magic can inflict. I’ve treated mages with distrust because of it – at times without cause. That was unworthy of me. I’ll try not to do so here," he said seriously. "Not that I want mages moving through our base completely unchecked. We need safeguards in place to protect people – including mages – from possession, at the least.” he added quickly.

Trevelyan felt taken aback. It sounded exactly like something Frederic would have said. The beginnings of tears began to prick her eyes, and she willed herself not to show it. "You're a good man, Cullen. You remember that mages are people, despite what you've seen." Trevelyan sounded like she was speaking to someone else through him, and Cullen wished he could know what or who she was thinking of when she did that.

Culen gallantly pretended not to notice that Trevelyan was on the cusp of crying. "Being a templar isn't just about watching mages. There is weapon and combat training. Even without their abilities, templars are among the best warriors in Thedas. Initiates must also memorize portions of the Chant of Light, study history, and improve their mental focus," he offered, as if he was trying to recruit for the Order.

She laughed at that. "I know that much. Did you enjoy your training?"

He crossed his arms as he recalled his boyish ambitions. "I wanted to learn everything. If I was giving my life to this, I would be the best templar I could."

"You were a model student," she teased, which elicited a rueful laugh from him.

"I wanted to be. I wasn't always successful. Watching a candle burn down while reciting the Chant of Transfigurations wasn't the most exciting task. I admit, my mind sometimes wandered."

"Oh? Did you also take vows?" She made a jokingly solemn templar voice. "'I swear to the Maker to watch all the mages' -- that sort of thing?"

“There’s a vigil first. You’re meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change. When it’s over, you give yourself to a life of service. That’s when you’re given a philter – your first draught of lyrium – and its power. As templars, we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgment. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen.” The thought of the bottle made him a little sick. But he couldn't anymore. Not after what Meredith had done…

"A life of service and sacrifice," she said ponderously, savoring the words. There was a teasing tone to her voice again, and it drew him away from the thought of Kirkwall. "Are templars also expected to give up… physical temptations?"

She always, always caught him off-guard. “Physical? Why…” Cullen cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Why would you… That’s not expected. Templars can marry – although there are rules about it, and the Order must grant permission… Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it’s, um, not required.”

Trevelyan leaned forward a little, arms behind her back. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. "Have _you_?" she inquired. She couldn't help herself--he was so fun to tease.

He swore he could feel her breath tickle against his collar. Cullen felt the color rise in his face. He stammered, still unable to look at her. "Me? I… um… no. I've taken no such vows. Maker's breath -- can we speak of something else?" He took a small step backwards. Why did she enjoy this so much?

"I think I've taken enough of your time, Commander." Cullen was almost annoyed. She was going to just tease him and then leave him red-faced? But he still couldn't bring himself to look at her directly, much less come up with anything to say, and she skipped away.

He thought about what she'd said. Her sister had married "some well-meaning templar" -- so she knew! She knew! That infuriating woman…

Trevelyan grinned to herself, remembering Cullen's stammered response. He took everything so seriously, and it was incredibly adorable. And he never seemed to mind answering her questions, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there was a reference to Frederic in a previous chapter. If such a person exists in the Dragon Age universe, they're not the same one. I don't anticipate going into Trevelyan's past very much, though I've written it out for myself (mostly to cement her personality and her motivations). You might have noticed that I keep referring to the Inquisitor as Trevelyan and not Leila in these few chapters...this is mostly because I wrote this story from the middle first :| Oops!
> 
> Next chapter: Redcliffe and everyone's favorite cousin, Dorian!


	5. Venusaurus? Venatori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevelyan rubbed her forehead and glanced at Felix. "Let me get this straight. So…your father, Magister Alexius, joined a Tevinter cult named the…the…Venusaurus--"
> 
> "Venatori," Felix offered helpfully.
> 
> "Right. The Venatori. And they're working with someone, or something called the Elder One. For some reason they want mages to such a degree that they're willing to use time magic to rip the world apart. And…they are obsessed with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance, there isn't much romantic fluff in this one. But...there is a Dorian! I love his sassy self to bits. Trevelyan's a pretty smart cookie, but she doesn't give herself as much credit as she deserves.
> 
> Alexius and Felix have always made me sad. I'm anxious to see if DA4 reveals any more secrets about the Blight.

Trevelyan set out for the Hinterlands early next morning with Cassandra, Blackwall, and Varric. Normally she would have asked Solas -- his unusual insight into the Fade was reassuring when rifts were all around -- but they had traveled together each time and she thought he might use a break. They must have furiously closed eight rifts, to say nothing of clearing war camps, finding caches, and destroying red lyrium in the space of two months. Sera was fun to be around, but Trevelyan thought she might venture to Redcliffe this time to take up Fiona's offer, and Sera didn't like mages. Vivienne was great company, but unlikely to strike an accord with rebels from the Circle. Diplomacy was difficult. If only she could bring Josie along.

Trevelyan urged her Fereldan Forder onward. She hoped former Grand Enchanter Fiona might agree to temporarily set the war aside long enough to close the Breach. From there…she wasn't sure. _I'll start by closing as many rifts as I can,_ and then… she considered her options. Return to the Circle? With the Templar Order separated from the Chantry, though, was there even a Circle? Not to even mention that the Chantry had no Divine and saw her as a heretic. Her head hurt. Life would never return to normal, would it?

Following the road signs absentmindedly, Trevelyan frowned. There were too many strange things happening-- bandits who weren't bandits. Disappearing Wardens who had been hunting someone in the Storm Coast. Carta operations mining red lyrium… Lyrium production itself was profitable, but red lyrium was a different matter. Varric had told her about Kirkwall. She shuddered. Who was buying it? Mages? Templars? Her eyes widened. If Varric's brother and Meredith had simply gone mad and changed by being near it…Maker, she hoped it wasn't being _ingested_. Trevelyan pushed that thought away.

In any case, they were almost to the gates of Redcliffe now, Cassandra and Varric bickering somewhere behind her. There was a soldier running towards them and a rift in the distance.

"Rift ahead!" Trevelyan shouted and nudged her horse to a stop. She dismounted, swinging her staff and unleashing a chain lightning at the group of shades rushing towards them.

She took a step backwards and the world felt incredibly slow. She could barely move. Alarmed, she stepped forward again and time flowed normally. Cassandra, on the other hand, was moving unnaturally quickly. The party dispatched demons expertly, and Trevelyan closed the rift. She immediately went to examine the strange spaces with different time.

"Something is wrong here. T i m e  i s  d i s tortedintheseareas. Iwanteve ryone to stay alert." Maker, did she wish she'd brought Solas along now.

"Ass-deep in demons and weird time magic. You never disappoint, Curious."

"Hey now Varric, neither of those are of my doing, I think."

"I don't know if I'd be more or less concerned if they were."

To make things worse, they were greeted by a scout who told them no one had been expecting them. And that the mages had put themselves under the control of Tevinter.

Trevelyan looked agape at Varric, who shrugged. "I feel the same, Curious. Has the world gone insane? Definitely."

After talking to a few townspeople, they investigated a locked cabin near the docks, which people had pointed out belonged to the Tevinters. It was filled with oculara…which she now learned were made of Tranquil skulls.

She rushed outside the cabin and closed the door. She could barely stop herself from throwing up into the harbor. It wasn't as if she hadn't heard tales of evil magisters or seen blood magic, but there were so many… For what… _shards_? Ugh! Why did nothing make any sense anymore?

She took a drink of water to calm her nerves. "Let's go to the Gull and Lantern. The Tevinters have a lot to answer for."

That didn't go much better. Had the mages been so desperate to sell themselves to the Imperium? What was a magister doing so far south? So many questions and no answers. Then there was the note.

"It's clearly a trap," Cassandra said dismissively, "I do not like it."

Blackwall nodded.

"Regardless, I think it's worth investigating. There's so much going on here that doesn't make sense.." Trevelyan said hesitantly.

So into the Chantry they went.

 

* * *

 

"You don't even know how it works, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom, rift closes!" She liked this fabulous stranger right away. But…answers first.

 

Maker, were there too many answers. And they were not reassuring.

Trevelyan rubbed her forehead and glanced at Felix. "Let me get this straight. So…your father, Magister Alexius, joined a Tevinter cult named the…the…Venusaurus--"

"Venatori," Felix offered helpfully.

"Right. The Venatori. And they're working with someone, or something called the Elder One. For some reason they want mages to such a degree that they're willing to use time magic to rip the world apart. And…they are obsessed with me."

"That's the gist of it, yes," Dorian frowned. "Though what they would need the mages for, I couldn't guess. To get to you, perhaps?"

"You're asking me to take a lot on faith." Leila could feel a headache coming on.

"I know. But whenever you're ready to deal with Alexius, I want to be there. I'll be in touch." Dorian swung his pack on his back, getting ready to leave. "Oh, and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."

"There are worse things than dying, Dorian," Felix said solemnly.

Leila sighed. "All right. Let's go." Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen would want to hear about this immediately.

 

* * *

 

Maker help her. The War Room was filled with arguments. Of course, Cullen thought it nonsense. Cassandra was convinced it was a trap not worth investigating, and Leliana firmly believed that the mages were still the best option for closing the Breach. Josephine just wanted to avoid a diplomatic nightmare. Trevelyan hung back meekly. She still didn't feel like she had the authority to be making these kinds of major decisions. She was just the messenger.

"Herald, what do you think we should do?" Leliana turned to her. Everyone waited expectantly for her response. She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"The Breach connects to the Fade, and because we mages are tied to it, I thought that Redcliffe was the better option. Fiona even approached me in Val Royeaux on her own, though she denies it now, possibly due to this…time magic. Since the Order has broken from the Chantry, we don't even know if the templars can use their lyrium-related abilities. Surely their supplies are limited. And now we have the Imperium, or at least a Tevinter god-raising cult settled in Redcliffe, messing with time itself? This isn't something we can be comfortable leaving alone normally, never mind with all the strange things going on all over Thedas. I think we need to find out more about Alexius and the Venatori."

The argument began anew, but this time it was about how to secure Redcliffe's castle. Leila tried to stay out of it again. She didn't know much about castle-storming. Her areas of expertise had selectively been trained in the Maker, manners, marriages, and magic.

"We don't have the manpower to take the castle! Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the templars!" Cullen was frustrated now. The templars would surely see reason, and there was no need to put the Herald in unnecessary danger.

"Redcliffe is in the hands of a magister. This cannot be allowed to stand." Cassandra spoke up.

"The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It's an obvious trap." Josephine said warningly.

Trevelyan sighed. "Isn't that kind of him. What does Alexius say about me?"

"He's so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you." Leliana responded.

Cullen was adamant now. "If you go in there, you'll die. And we'll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won't allow it."

Trevelyan couldn't help but feel stung. So she was nothing more than a rift-closing tool. She thought... She opened her mouth as if to say something, and then closed it. No, the Commander was right. There was no room for sentimentality here when the world was at stake. Still…it hurt.

"And if we don't even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!" Leliana said sharply.

The advisers argued amongst themselves.

"The magister--" Cassandra insisted, only to be cut off by Cullen, "--has outplayed us."

Leila frowned. "I don't think it will end here, even if we decide to ask the Order for help. Alexius is in a cult that's obsessed with me. I doubt they'll graciously receive our apologies and go about their business. There must be some other way to the castle. A sewer? A secret entrance?"

Thankfully, Leliana had an idea. Trevelyan could swear up and down that the Nightingale knew everything. Thank the Maker she was not against them.

And they had Dorian's help, even if Cassandra eyed the Tevinter mage with a great deal of distrust. Leila liked him, though. He cut a dashing figure and had a quick mouth. Besides, she had seen the way he wielded flame magic; Dorian was a mage of considerable talent. And if he'd been telling the truth, he'd developed time magic! Time magic! The scholar inside her longed to learn more.

Cullen pulled Trevelyan aside. "The plan puts you in the most danger. We can't, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the templars if you'd rather not play the bait. It's up to you," he said.

The earnestness in his voice made her feel silly for the pang of hurt earlier. "It's alright. I want to help, if I can. Besides, if the Venatori want my autograph, who am I to refuse?"

She was making quips again, but it didn't satisfy him. "If you're sure," he said.

"I'm sure." Trevelyan crossed her arms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the calm before the storm. Dorian teases Trevelyan.


	6. Fascinating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian stood beside her and followed suit. He glanced at Commander Cullen appreciatively. "Oh, it's fascinating, all right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really short one. I hope I've done Dorian justice; I do love his character so much.
> 
> Does our Trevelyan have some affections for Commander Cullen? Find out next time on Dragon Ball Z--I mean, Dragon Age Inquisition!

For the next few days, Trevelyan busied herself with tending to the injured, learning songs from Maryden--she especially liked Enchanters, though playing the mandolin was difficult--and continuing her own magical research.

She'd gone for an early walk around Haven when the flash of steel in the sunlight caught her eye. She stopped at the top of a hill to watch the Inquisition forces practice, not noticing Dorian approaching from behind.

"You seem to be awfully invested in watching the troops train," he said in lieu of a greeting.

Trevelyan came to herself with a start, but kept observing. "Hm? Oh, Dorian. Yes, it's fascinating, isn't it?"

Dorian stood beside her and followed suit. He glanced at Commander Cullen appreciatively. "Oh, it's _fascinating_ , all right."

Trevelyan smiled, oblivious to Dorian's tone. "I mean, we've never had to learn swordplay. We use magic at a distance. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be in the thick of it, in the heat of battle. Don't you?" She was watching Cullen fight now, absorbed in the way he and a soldier parried and blocked each others' blows.

Dorian half-snorted at Trevelyan's references to 'swordplay' and 'the heat of battle'. "No, I can't say that I have." He paused, and went on. "Your Commander is very skilled."

Trevelyan's eyes brightened up, and she beamed. "Cullen--ah--the Commander is! It's always a joy to watch him at work."

Dorian raised an eyebrow and chuckled. _Too easy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The Magequisition. Sad times ahead for Trevelyan. :(
> 
> How do you even cope with seeing your friends die, other than just...badly?


	7. A Red Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The magister knelt before Trevelyan, aware of his failure. She felt hollow. "Throw down your arms, Alexius. You've lost." But she felt like she was the one who had lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more serious affair. I've always thought the events at Redcliffe were highly traumatic for the Inquisitor. Trevelyan has some growing up to do.

Finally, Trevelyan received word from Leliana; they were ready to move.

She brought Solas and Varric with her this time--Solas, because he was knowledgeable, and Varric, because he was good company. Trevelyan shivered as she ran through the plan in her head. There was so much that could go wrong here, and she didn't relish the idea of being dead. Still, she thought, the mages and Redcliffe needed her help. And she trusted Leliana's people. So she steeled her heart and approached the throne room where Alexius was waiting.

A courtier came forward. "The magister's invitation was for Mistress Trevelyan only. These others will have to remain here."

Trevelyan put on her most charming smile. "Oh, but they must come with me. You would not deprive a lady of her attachés, would you?" Her eyes widened with all the pretense of dumb innocence, and she tilted her head slightly to the left.

The courtier frowned but acquiesced.

"I didn't expect that to work, Curious, but your acting was too good. Are you sure you're not actually some empty-headed noblewoman?" Varric whispered.

"Sometimes, I really do wish you'd shut up, Varric."

"Aw, you don't mean that."

They walked on, guards in Tevinter garb lining the halls, Alexius sitting on the throne cross-legged, Felix and Fiona in attendance.

"My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived."

Alexius rose. "My friend! It's so good to see you again." He gestured, voice assiduous and smooth. "And.. your associates, of course. I'm sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties."

Trevelyan morbidly wondered if that arrangement included her death or enslavement. That wouldn't be equitable to her, though, would it?

The former Grand Enchanter stepped forward. "Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?"

Alexius dismissed her claim. "Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives."

It was Trevelyan's turn now, her voice equal parts honeyed and venomous. "Then I welcome former Grand Enchanter Fiona to speak on the mages' behalf, as a guest of the Inquisition." As much as she considered Fiona a fool for selling herself into slavery, the rebel mages deserved this much.

"Thank you." The surprise showed on Fiona's face.

"Very well, then. Shall we begin our talks?" Alexius turned back towards the throne and sat. Trevelyan recognized the obvious power move but kept her face passive. "The Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Trevelyan saw guards being dragged backwards. She needed to get Alexius's attention immediately.

"Well. I hoped we could be forthcoming with each other. Talk a little about our involvement in secret cults. The Venatori, for example."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you mean." He was going to play it off, then. No matter. She had kept his focus on her.

"She knows everything, father." Felix said sadly.

Alexius's voice was sharper now. "Felix, what have you done?"

Trevelyan felt she at least owed Felix the attempt of avoiding violent confrontation. "Your son is convinced that you're involved in something terrible," she said.

"So speaks the thief. Do you think you can turn my son against me?" He stood up now, shadow towering over her. "You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark-- a gift you don't even understand-- and think you're in control? You're nothing but a mistake." Alexius spat.

Her posture became ever so slightly straighter, and she looked Alexius in the eyes. "If you know so much, enlighten me. Tell me what this mark on my hand is for."

"It belongs to your betters. You wouldn't even begin to understand its purpose." Alexius raised an hand upwards.

Felix interjected. "Father, listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?"

 _Some sort of villainous cliché_ , Trevelyan mentally added.

Dorian walked out from behind a pillar. "He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be." Maker, did she appreciate Dorian.

"Dorian. I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down." Alexius looked disappointed. "The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes."

If this were not such a tense moment, Trevelyan might have giggled. The "Elder One" was such a clichéd, stupid name that it was hard to take seriously. But the statement was alarming, to say the least.

"Who is this Elder One, exactly?" she queried.

"He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas."

"You can't involve my people in this!" Fiona protested loudly.

Dorian stepped forward. "Alexius. This is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?" A valiant attempt, but Trevelyan was fairly sure the magister was beyond reason now.

"Stop it, father. Give up the Venatori. Let the Southern mages fight the Breach, and let's go home," Felix urged.

Alexius would not be deterred. "No! It's the only way, Felix. He can save you!"

"Save me?" Felix's voice was disapproving.

"There is a way. The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the Temple…"

Again with the mistake. So the Venatori were behind the explosion, then. But why? Did the mark do more than just closing rifts?

"I'm going to die. You need to accept that," Felix said firmly.

His father ignored him. "Seize them, Venatori! The Elder One demands this woman's life!"

At this, Leliana's people dispatched the guards. Trevelyan winced and looked back towards Alexius; she'd never enjoyed blood. "Your men are dead, Alexius," she cautioned him.

He was enraged. "You… are a mistake! You should never have existed!" Alexius drew out a glowing amulet before Trevelyan could process it all.

"No!" Dorian yelled and flung magical energy at Alexius. But it was too late. A swirl of light appeared and blew everyone back, except…she wasn't there, and… suddenly it was very wet.

 

* * *

 

 

"Blood of the Elder One!" a helmeted figure exclaimed to another. "Where'd they come from?"

No time to think about it now, they were both charging towards Trevelyan with swords.

"Get ready!" A voice shouted beside her. With some relief, Trevelyan realized Dorian was by her side. The pair quickly killed the hostiles, and took a moment to catch their breaths. Trevelyan looked around the room. They stood in what appeared to be a jail cell, with… Maker, was that a huge vein of red lyrium? She felt sick. Where had Alexius sent them?

"Displacement? Interesting!" Dorian scrutinized the room. "It's probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us… to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?"

Trevelyan wasn't sure she wanted to know what Alexius had intended. "The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall."

"Let's see. If we're still in the castle, it isn't…oh! Of course! It's not simply where-- it's when!" Dorian shook his staff at her excitedly. "Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!"

Dorian was taking this revelation entirely too well, compared to Trevelyan who wanted to simultaneously study this magic and panic-throw up in a corner at the same time. She settled for faintly asking, "What? How far in time have we moved?"

"That's the question, isn't it? Let's look around. See where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back…if we can." That was not reassuring. Neither was Dorian's explanation that Alexius had probably tried to remove her from ever existing, even with Dorian's pledge to protect her.

"Let's get moving, then," she said grimly. The halls were lined with red lyrium. It clung to the walls like a disease and emitted a sickening glow. Trevelyan didn't say much and concentrated on searching through cells as quickly as possible until they came across an elven mage she had talked to outside Redcliffe.

"Andraste guide me, Andraste guide me," he chanted.

"Do you recognize me? Hello?" But his eyes and soul were eerily dead. They continued on to encounter Fiona, melded to the walls of her cell with red lyrium growing out of her body. If she was here, then…the others? Trevelyan felt dizzy at the thought.

"Harvestmere. 9:42 Dragon." It had only been a year, then, since the confrontation at Redcliffe. But so much had changed. They had to return and stop this. Her head pounded.

The sight of Varric and Solas infected by the red lyrium strengthened that resolve. She would never let this nightmare come to pass. At the very least, if she couldn't, Alexius would pay.

Leliana…Leliana…

It was almost in a dream-like frenzy that Trevelyan closed rifts and hunted down Alexius. She did not think about any of this. She did not want to think about it. Thankfully, everyone stayed silent, except for Dorian who chattered incessantly. Trevelyan didn't fault him, though. She supposed it was just his way of coping.

When Solas and Varric turned towards the door, something snapped. Even for a nightmare, this was too much. Her voice, passive and flat until now, heightened into a near-scream. "No! I won't let you commit suicide!"

Leliana pushed her back. "Look at us. We're already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes."

Dorian grabbed Trevelyan by the arm as her companions walked away. Leliana readied her bow. "Cast your spell. You have as much time as I have arrows." No, no, no. No! She should be out there, fighting with them. That was how it always was. But the door sealed shut and Dorian began to concentrate on the amulet.

Silence, for a time.

The doors were forced open by terrors, Solas's body thrown aside carelessly. Leliana making a last stand…Trevelyan stumbled towards the Nightingale, but Dorian pulled her back. "You move and we all die," he shouted harshly. And so she helplessly watched as Leliana died.

Again they stood in the throne room of Redcliffe Castle, in the original time. "You'll have to do better than that," Dorian looked at Alexius.

The magister knelt before Trevelyan, aware of his failure. She felt hollow. "Throw down your arms, Alexius. You've lost." But she felt like she was the one who had lost.

"You won. There is no point extending this charade." He extended an arm towards his son. "Felix…"

Felix knelt, gentle and kind. "It's going to be all right, father."

Alexius shook his head, voice anguished. "You'll die."

"Everyone dies."

The Inquisition soldiers took custody of Alexius as a new group of guards came marching inside.

Trevelyan was drained, but there was no avoiding King Alistair. She looked towards the desperate rebel mages, and thought about what Cullen had said, once. _I’ve seen the suffering magic can inflict. I’ve treated mages with distrust because of it – at times without cause. That was unworthy of me. I’ll try not to do so here._ She drew a deep breath.

"We would be honored to have you fight as allies at the Inquisition's side." She wanted to leave, but Fiona still had questions. Trevelyan answered wearily and diplomatically, the usual words about staying united, and fighting the Breach, and everything. Finally, Fiona accepted the offer. Trevelyan nodded.

She barely remembered the trip back to Haven. Solas and Varric were there, of course, and as usual the elven apostate was questioning the dwarf about a lost empire. She was glad for it, but kept silent herself. Her companions were in good spirits; they could now assail the Breach. They hadn't lived through the nightmarish landscape of the future. But there was worry on Trevelyan's mind, and she was certain it would not end with just that. _I've written enough tragedies to know where this is going_ , she remembered Varric saying. At the time she'd laughed it off. Now, she was not so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The return to Haven. Trevelyan pushes herself too far, and Cullen learns a little more about her more vulnerable side.


	8. At Her Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We don't know what awaited us in Therinfall Redoubt. It might have been worse-- we might have lost you. It's no use playing a game of what-ifs," Cullen said firmly. "And among friends…you can lean on us. The Inquisition is behind you."
> 
> Trevelyan finally noticed Cullen's hand. She blushed and slipped hers away. "Somehow you always see me at my worst, Commander," she lamented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last post for today. I have more written, but...it's 5 AM. What am I doing still awake at this ungodly hour?
> 
> Trevelyan isn't as strong as she pretends to be, but thankfully she's made some good friends. One of them just happens to be Cullen. *wink wink nudge nudge* I kid.
> 
> I think it's important to remember that emotions aren't inherently weak. *mumbles some more late night/delirious advice*

Trevelyan did not rest when they came to Haven; instead, she walked straight into the war room with Dorian and recounted the important details of the ordeal to Josephine, Leliana, Cullen, and Cassandra. Dorian asked if he could stay with the Inquisition, and Trevelyan welcomed him.

 

Dark and dreamless sleep finally overtook her. She woke up feeling no less empty and defeated, and made her way into the Chantry out of habit. Trevelyan found Cullen, Cassandra, and Josephine arguing in the halls.

"What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight? The Veil is torn open!"

Cullen was yelling at her--ironic, considering his words were the ones that fueled her final decision. She didn't want to hear this right now, and she was so, so tired of tiptoeing around his templar views.

"We’re not monsters! We can control ourselves without outside help." The words came out more spitefully than she'd expected. This was not who she wanted to be.

"This is not an issue of self-control. Even the strongest mages can be overcome by demons in conditions like these!" Cullen was right. He was always right, it seemed, and it made her so angry.

Cassandra spoke, and Trevelyan swallowed her words.

At the end of it all, Cullen extended a hand as a peace offering to her. "Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all."

Andraste's blessed… he was so infuriatingly reasonable. "I'll be there. I just.. need a moment," she said quietly. She left the Chantry without taking his hand.

 

* * *

 

She found herself afraid to sleep or stop to think about Redcliffe, and so she occupied every waking moment with activity. Gathering herbs. Grooming horses. Shining armor. Mixing potions. Reading tomes. Mending clothes. Filling requisitions. She returned to her cabin at night, but kept a candle burning as she studied the songs of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, Avvar Mother.

Three days passed like this before Trevelyan sat at the edge of the logging stand near the lake. A few nugs pranced by in the distance. It wouldn't be long now that they would retreat into hibernation. And that was all she thought before she collapsed from exhaustion in the snow.

No one had seen the Herald for hours, and she hadn't set off with any supplies, either. Nobody really believed that Trevelyan had run away, but the possibility was still there. Outside the Chantry, sleet fell heavily. Leliana frowned. It would be difficult for her ravens to fly in this weather, and any tracks the mage might have made were surely covered by now. But most of her things were still in the cabin--had she fallen into a trap?

Cullen spoke up suddenly. "I think I might know where she is," he said carefully. "I will go."

"I can send one of my scouts--" Leliana suggested, and Cullen shook his head. "It's not far."

He wondered if she was shouting out her stress at the logging stand again. Her behavior the past few days had been erratically busy, and though Trevelyan had once been inquisitive and bright, she had not spoken to anyone any more than necessary recently.

Cullen arrived at the logging stand, but everything was covered in a blanket of snow. Nearby, a deer or two slowly raised their heads to look at him. His heart sank. She wasn't here?

"Herald!" he called out. "Lady Trevelyan?" The deer scattered.

He stumbled around the area until he tripped into one snowy bank, falling on top of Trevelyan's sleeping form in an air pocket. Maker! What was she doing here? She was fortunate the snow had kept her safely warm. She was still breathing, too, he thought with relief. Trevelyan looked so tired and small, curled up there in the snow. Had she been eating?

Cullen shook her awake. "What were you thinking, sleeping here? You could have frozen to death--" he paused as her eyes fluttered open. She looked incredibly tired, and a sneaking suspicion bubbled up inside him. "When was the last time you slept?" Cullen demanded.

Trevelyan looked away. That was enough to confirm it. The Commander wrapped her in his heavy fur-lined coat and picked her up from the snow. He began marching back to Haven, and Trevelyan protested meekly. "I can walk on my own." Cullen shot her a very Commander-like glare, and she fell silent.

They reached her cabin, and he sent a servant to fetch food before he unceremoniously dumped Trevelyan on the bed.

"Your clothes are wet. Change," he said pointedly. His disapproval hung heavily in the air. She felt like one of his recruits, and meekly obeyed, untangling herself from his coat. Trevelyan began to unbutton her own enchanters coat before realizing Cullen was still watching her like a guard dog. She had been wrong and he was worried, she knew, but Maker help her, she still deserved some decency.

"Turn around," she commanded. Cullen looked surprised. "Are you going to watch me change, Commander?" she asked incredulously. He blushed and turned around. There was a mess of scrolls and papers on the desk, and several candle stubs. Books were stacked about, and  strings of dried herbs hung from the ceiling. This must've been what her room at the Circle had been like. There was a knock on the door, and he went to answer. It was the food he'd sent for. Good.

"I'm done," she said behind him, "Now if there's nothing else, Commander…"

He turned around and pushed the plate into her hands. "Eat," he said simply.

As much as she hated being treated like a child, Trevelyan knew there was no arguing with him. So she ate, and tried to forget that he was watching her. It was distinctly uncomfortable, and she felt like she was back in childhood etiquette class, learning about Fereldan, Orlesian, Tevinter, Antivan, and Nevarran table manners. Trevelyan finally placed the plate aside.

Cullen cleared his throat and sat on the edge of the bed, back turned to her. "If there's anything I can do to help," he started, "None of us can know what it was like…" He felt unhelpful. "What I mean to say is…you did well and we now have the power to seal the Breach."

There was a brief silence. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

He heard a small "…ong" from behind him. Cullen turned around to find Trevelyan sobbing like a child. She clutched onto his furry coat in her lap. Cullen felt at a loss, and just sat there as she cried. Eventually, when the shuddering died down, Trevelyan searched for a handkerchief to clean her face with. She was sure she looked like a proper mess, and she'd made a fool of herself in front of the Commander yet again. Trevelyan looked down and picked at the fur fringe on Cullen's coat.

"I'm not as strong as you all think I am," she said hesitantly. "I'm just a noble-born lady. A Circle mage, not a seasoned warrior. Nothing makes sense anymore." Shaky breath. "The first time I had to deliberately use magic to kill people was when the templars hunted me from Ostwick. I hate the smell of carnage…and thinking about all the people who just suddenly died in the Conclave, too…"

Cullen listened quietly.

"I was going to live out my life in that Circle tower. I was developing magic that would help people recover after a Blight… and now people praise me for how easily I use my magic to kill. Um. But the people needed a Herald, and I have this mark, and…they need someone who can be this glorious holy figure--someone confident and indestructible and full of hope. I recognize that. But what I saw in Redcliffe Castle…" she looked up at the ceiling. Her lips twitched. "It scares me."

"You've stopped it from happening," Cullen said kindly, placing a hand on hers. "Don't blame yourself. We could not have asked you for anything more."

Trevelyan shook her head. "I could have listened to you. I didn't need to place myself in that situation. We could have reached out to the templars, and no one would have had to suffer. I…I don't want to see anyone sacrifice themselves for me."

"We don't know what awaited us in Therinfall Redoubt. It might have been worse-- we might have lost you. It's no use playing a game of what-ifs," Cullen said firmly. "And among friends…you can lean on us. The Inquisition is behind you."

Trevelyan finally noticed Cullen's hand. She blushed and slipped hers away. "Somehow you always see me at my worst, Commander," she lamented.

"That may be true. Now promise me you'll sleep." He picked up his coat.

"Cullen?" Her voice was small and quivery.

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He smiled as he left the cabin. The fact that Trevelyan could show him her weak side was not only cute (he privately admitted), but he also endeavored to help his friend however he could in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Sealing the Breach! And soon after, the collapse of Haven! And after that, Skyhold! and then... and then...
> 
> I need some sleep.


	9. The Breach in the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra put a hand on her shoulder.
> 
> "You did it."
> 
> Cheers erupted from all around as Trevelyan stood. The Breach was sealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The romance will pick up soon, I promise. Thank you so much for the kudos. It really helps when you're as self-conscious about your writing as I am (haha).
> 
> It's interesting, trying to imagine what magic feels like. Fade magic and blood magic are likely fundamentally different. And then it's anyone's guess what in the world blight magic is.

Over the course of a month, it seemed like Trevelyan had finally come into her own as a leader. She was less hesitant, and her points were often excellent. War room talks were less arguments than discussions now, and went by much more efficiently. Morale was good-- tales of the Herald's actions had spread far, despite some displeasure at her offer of alliance to the rebel mages.

 

"The best of the mages are ready, Herald. Be certain you are prepared for the assault on the Breach. We cannot know how you will be affected," Cullen warned. It was time.

Trevelyan nodded, knowing what he meant. The initial attempt at closing the Breach had nearly killed her in its desperate recklessness. This time, she would see it to the end and face the looming possibility of death once more.

She supposed it was rather dramatic of her, but she had written some letters to be found if it happened. There was nothing much to give, though in the case of death she bequeathed her magical research to Dorian--they'd become good friends (and indeed, happened to be distantly related cousins!) and she was sure he could continue her work. Trevelyan made sure to comb through her belongings twice and hand over any outstanding Circle tomes to Vivienne. It was strange, deliberately preparing for one's own death. Why now? It wasn't as if any expedition she'd been sent on had been safe to begin with.

The mage looked around her cabin and wondered if she should tidy up. She shook her head. That would be too far. Even though she thought it better that this dangerous task fell to her than someone who had built a life and a family, Trevelyan didn't intend to die.

She had snuck into the Chantry at night and said a short prayer for herself, just asking that it'd be as painless as possible if it had to happen. (The Maker didn't reply.)

If she survived, then…well. The Inquisition's primary purpose would be fulfilled. The world still hungered for order. Could battle-torn Orlais deliver it? What of Ferelden? The divided Chantry? No; there was no doubt in Trevelyan's mind that the Inquisition would continue if it succeeded today. Part of that depended on the mark on her hand.

 

She told herself she was ready.

 

* * *

 

They were at the Temple of Sacred Ashes again, Solas and Cassandra beside her. The air was tense as dozens of mages lined the pathways around the central point. The mark glowed and crackled with green energy. All eyes watched the Breach.

"Mages!"

"Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!"

Trevelyan took a deep breath. She concentrated on the Breach, reaching towards it. One by one, the mages behind her slammed their staves into the ground. Power flowed into her like electricity. It thrilled through her veins and dripped from her pores. Trevelyan felt like pure energy. It was as if she'd ingested pure lyrium, and the situation was just as lethal. The searing magic inside raced inside her in every direction, demanding an outlet. For a dizzying moment, she could see the Fade and the waking world both at once. She closed her eyes and to focus on acting as a magical conduit, sending all the magic flowing inside her to her marked hand. Gritting her teeth, Trevelyan pulled at the sky and willed the tear to close. It was all she could do to keep her arm steady. Above her, the roiling green vortex shuddered and groaned, then snapped shut with a roar.

The shockwave blew everyone on their backs, stunned. They all scrambled up to look at the sky--except for Trevelyan, who knelt on the ground, winded. She was…still alive.

 

Cassandra put a hand on her shoulder.

"You did it."

Cheers erupted from all around as Trevelyan stood. The Breach was sealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: In Your Heart Shall Burn.
> 
> I'll be honest with you, the moment the chantry scene happened with Cullen, that was it. There was no other romance route for the Inquisitor. And when he was the one who found her afterwards? It writes itself. It really does.


	10. In Your Heart Shall Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pretender." The voice boomed. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'll get better at writing action scenes.................................( '-') it's okay. Fluff is my forte, I like to think.
> 
> The Elder One is such a silly name.

Smiles were everywhere at Haven. The Herald of Andraste had given them hope. Sera, Blackwall, Dorian, and the Iron Bull were already drinking in the tavern and waved Trevelyan over. She took a gulp of the worst mixed drink of her life, and they laughed. Seggritt was dancing arm in arm with Minaeve around the campfire as Maryden played. Varric said something about "this shit is weird" and a book, and even grim and fatalistic Solas offered her congratulations. Vivienne looked relieved as well, and made plans to introduce her to some Orlesian nobles-- "you've done so well, darling."

There were so many profuse congratulations and requests to touch her "holy mark" that Trevelyan eventually found herself quietly overlooking the festivities with Cassandra instead of joining in. The initial relief had begun to wear off, and she found herself thinking about the Venatori again.

"Solas confirms the heavens are scarred but calm. The Breach is sealed." Cassandra went on. "We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread."

Trevelyan smiled at the absurd thought of herself riding in on a shining steed. "You know how many were involved. Luck put me at the center."

"A strange kind of luck. I'm not sure if we need more or less. But you're right. This was a victory of alliance. One of the few in recent memory," Cassandra ceded. "With the Breach sealed, that alliance will need new purpose."

Trevelyan squinted. There were lights on the horizon, coming down the mountainside. What did this--

Bells clanged through Haven, and she heard the Commander yelling. "Forces approaching! To arms!"

"What the…? We must get to the gates!" Cassandra drew her sword and rushed past Trevelyan. Trevelyan followed, wondering what host this was. Why now?

Sera and Varric were there, too. They all gathered around Cullen, who was giving orders.

"Cullen?" Trevelyan gasped out.

"One watchguard reporting. It's a massive force. The bulk over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine asked.

"None."

"None?" Josephine's voice was incredulous.

Trevelyan watched as the gates shook.

"I can't come in unless you open!" A boy's voice, pleading.

She rushed through the gateway, Cullen behind her, to see a Venatori fall to the ground and a boy in a floppy hat behind him.

"I'm Cole. I came to warn you. To help." The boy took a step towards her. "People are coming to hurt you. You…probably already know."

"What is this? What's going on?" So many questions that needed answers.

"The templars come to kill you." Cole said gravely.

Trevelyan's heart sunk. Why, because she had offered the mages an alliance?

"Templars? Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?" Cullen had the same thought.

Cole continued. "The red templars went to the Elder One." He turned to Trevelyan, leaning close. "You know him? He knows you. You took his mages." He drew away again, pointing to the distance. "There."

A templar stood upon the crest of the horizon, glowing with the sickly haze of red lyrium.

Cullen's voice was quiet. "I know that man…but this Elder One…"

Trevelyan looked on in silence. There was another form next to the templar. A monstrosity, much taller than a man…deformed…he looked like…

"Darkspawn," she whispered. The templars, too, were no longer completely human--red lyrium seemed to grow from them. No. The future had changed! She'd changed it!

"He's very angry that you took his mages," Cole said.

"Cullen! Give me a plan! Anything!" Trevelyan was determined to stop this.

"Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can!" Cullen drew his sword and faced the waiting soldiers. "Mages! You-- you have sanction to engage them! That is Samson. He will not make it easy! Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!" He bore his blade high against the crimson tide.

There was no time to think. With Cassandra, Sera, and Varric on her heels, Trevelyan cut through the attackers with ferocious speed. They retook the southern trebuchet, which needed to be fired. Its original operator was dead. Trevelyan had never operated one in her life, but there was no time to hesitate. She took aim towards the mountain and triggered. A avalanche of snow and rock came tumbling down with a crack, burying the path and the bulk of the templars rushing towards the valley. She breathed a brief sigh of relief and Varric gave her a pat on the back…

Was that a dragon?! A single shriek blew the trebuchet to splinters. Trevelyan barely brought up a barrier in time to prevent her party from being skewered.

"Shit! Who ordered the end of the world? Was it you, Buttercup?" Varric cursed.

"Shut up! If I did, it'd be way less shite than this!" Sera shouted back.

 

* * *

 

 

They ran towards the Chantry, helping anyone they could find along the way.

Cullen rushed towards Trevelyan as she entered. "Herald! Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

The strange boy named Cole was tending to Chancellor Roderick. Trevelyan grimaced. That looked like a fatal wound. "I've seen an Archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that," Cole said.

"I don't care what it looks like. It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!" There was desperation in Cullen's voice.

Trevelyan wracked her brain for a solution. If that was an Archdemon, then there was no chance of survival, even if it was obeying the Elder One. They must at least save a messenger, someone to find the Grey Wardens. Someone must go to Weisshaupt--

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald," Cole looked at her.

"If you know why he wants me, please just say it."

The strange boy shook his head. "I don't. He's too loud. It hurts to hear him. He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

Cullen had no patience for these child-like words. "You don't like…?" He waved his arms in exasperation and turned to Trevelyan. "Herald. There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide. "

She knew what that meant, and she didn't like it. "We're overrun. To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

"We're dying. But we can decide how." His voice was softer, now. "Many don't get that choice."

Trevelyan and Cullen looked at each other sadly for a brief moment.

"Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies," Cole said.

The chancellor's voice was barely above a gasping whisper. "There is a path. You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have." He struggled to sit up from the chair. "The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could…tell you."

"What is this, Roderick?" If there was a way for people to escape… Trevelyan tried not to hope too soon.

"It was whim that I walked the path. I did not mean to start--it was overgrown. Now with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers… I don't know, Herald. If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident. You could be more." It took great effort for him to speak.

"What about it, Cullen? Will it work?" She put her faith in the Commander.

"Possibly. If he shows us the path. But what of your escape?"

Trevelyan thought about Frederic and Lydia from Ostwick, about future Redcliffe. She looked away.

His heart sank. "Perhaps…you will surprise it, find a way…" he faltered. He didn't know if the words were for himself or for her. He strode towards what was left of the survivors. "Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!"

"Herald.. If you are meant for this. If the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you." Roderick's whispered words were almost an apology. Trevelyan nodded as Cole helped him limp past, towards the back of the Chantry.

Two soldiers opened the Chantry doors.

Cullen had some last advice. "Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line."

Trevelyan nodded mutely and gripped her staff. She flashed the Commander a shaky smile before running out of the Chantry.

"If we are to have a chance-- if you are to have a chance -- let that thing hear you." She quickly fell out of sight.

She emerged alone, red templars swarming over Haven. Trevelyan uncorked the lyrium potion she carried for emergencies and swallowed it. She took a deep breath as she drew lightning from the Fade. The Elder One would undoubtedly hear her. She was never more thankful for being a mage than at that moment, leaping into battle, staff whirling and crackling with energy.

Trevelyan left a trail of alternately charred and frozen corpses in her wake. The trebuchet she was guarding was loaded, but it was up to her to aim it now. She wound the heavy mechanics with difficulty, fending off blow after blow from mutated templars and blasting them with arcane force. Trevelyan could smell the iron tang of her own blood. It had soaked everywhere and ran warmly down her leg, but she had done it. Now only to wait for the signal.

She spun her staff and made an elaborate and deadly display of pyrotechnics to explode the remaining red templars that assaulted her. Then she slumped down against stone steps breathing heavily, plying the last of her magic to staunch the bleeding. Trevelyan hoped that had been enough to attract the Elder One's attention.

The dragon whirled in the distance, screeching a blast towards her. She scrambled to get out of the way, too weak to fade step.

The beast landed behind her-- there would be no running to the Chantry, now. Ahead of her, an unnaturally tall figure loomed in the flames- but the trebuchet still stood, she thought with relief. Any moment now, the signal would come. Trevelyan got up shakily but defiantly.

"Pretender." The voice boomed. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

Trevelyan almost wanted to laugh. Here, on the precipice of life and death, she felt fearless. Propelled by purpose and a desire to protect, she drew herself up as proudly as she could.

"Whatever you are, I'm not afraid!" Perhaps there was more hero inside her than she knew.

"Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies. Know me. Know what you have pretended to be." The twisted, shriveled mockery of a man drew closer. "Exalt the Elder One! The will that is Corypheus!" He said the words, as if he expected her to know who "Corypheus" was. She didn't.

Her lack of response displeased him.

"You will kneel." He pointed towards Trevelyan across the crackling flames.

"Tell me! What do you want from me?" Trevelyan countered, still waiting for a sign, willing this arrogant monster to speak.

"You would not understand. You would resist. It matters not." Corypheus drew an orb from his person, holding it in one hand. It began to glow with the sickening heat of red lyrium. "I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now." The other hand grabbed at her, and her mark flared to life with green energy, causing her to drop her staff.

"It is your fault, 'Herald.' You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose." His red magic pulled on her hand, and she struggled to keep it in place. "I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens." He closed his hand and she collapsed, green and red energy crackling from her palm. The dragon roared behind her.

"And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!"

She grit her teeth and hoped his plan would not succeed. "What is this thing meant to do?" She looked around for something--anything-- that could be of use.

"It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it."

What in the Maker's holy name did that mean? The arrogance of this…thing…was incredible. He fancied himself a god? He grabbed her by the wrist. Oh Maker, he was even more disgusting up close, hanging feet above the ground. He wore the stench of death like a strong perfume. His features could have once been described as handsome. Now, they were twisted and gnarled into a cruel mockery of humankind, his leathery, rotted skin fused with bits of red lyrium.

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more," he hissed. She struggled against his grip, but still dangled helplessly. "I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!"

Corypheus finally flung her into the frame of the trebuchet. Trevelyan had no strength to put up a barrier. The taste of blood filled her throat. "Agh!"

"The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling."

It was a small satisfaction to see the darkspawn so frustrated. Trevelyan struggled to get up. She snatched up a sword from the ground and held it before her defensively, back pressed against the trebuchet-- not that she really knew how to use a sword. But Corypheus didn't need to know that. Her eyes scoured the horizon. Nothing.

The dragon advanced towards her menacingly, Corypheus still talking by its side. "So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation-- and god-- it requires."

He was going to kill her now. The proud defiance she'd felt earlier was beginning to slip away. How long could she keep him talking? There was no time left to fulfill her purpose. _Give the sign_ , she pleaded desperately. _Let it all not be for naught._

 

* * *

 

Cullen watched from the trail. The Inquisition was almost safely above the trees-- had she succeeded? He had seen the dragon land. Then faint lights, red and green. Trevelyan would find a way. She would. She would come back and then laugh alongside Sera. Trade stories with Varric. He sent the signal. If the trebuchet did not fire… he watched for a sign.

 

* * *

 

A single flare shot above the treeline. Trevelyan breathed. They were safe, then.

Corypheus was nearly upon her, glaring with condescending hatred. "And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die."

Trevelyan glanced at the trigger. It was but two steps to her left. If she must die, so be it. She held the sword up. "You expect me to fight, but that's not why I kept you talking.  Enjoy your victory. Here's your prize!" She waved the sword. Corypheus's eyes followed it. Thankfully he was a mage with as little swordplay knowledge as she had. Fool. She kicked the trigger and the trebuchet sprang to life. A massive cracking sound echoed in the distance. The entire mountain bank began to collapse, and Trevelyan ran. Where to, she didn't know. She wanted to die away from that creature, at least.

The blast behind her sent her flying down a mining shaft, and knocked her unconscious.

 

* * *

 

Cullen watched the mountain crumble and the dragon fly away. Snow and rock descended upon Haven in a thunderous roar. He waited. Trevelyan had been alive. She would send a sign for rescue now. Something.

 

Minutes passed. Nothing.

 

The Inquisition continued to head north, through the Frostback mountains. Cullen kept turning back every few paces, waiting.

They reached a pass as the sky settled into darkness. He directed the remaining soldiers to set up camp and tend to the wounded. A somber and grieving mood settled over the survivors. Cullen felt foolish, but he kept looking towards the south, hoping to see something in the dark. Somehow, it felt like if he stopped looking, then Trevelyan would truly be dead.

Varric came to stand by him. "The good ones always go early, Curly. That's why my rule is to never get attached." Cullen found himself unable to answer, so Varric cleared his throat and continued. "A rule I never seem to follow. You think she'll come through the pass? Well, good. If there's one thing I've learned, it's to never bet against Curious. We owe her that much."

Cullen nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: more slow burnin' romance, and we finally move to Skyhold. That's when things get real spicy *winkwonk blinkblonk*


	11. Thank the Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're alive, thank the Maker," she said hoarsely. He nodded. "And so am I, somehow." Her soft chuckle turned into a succession of sneezes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, Cullen's the first one to find the Inquisitor. Repeat after me: IT WAS MEANT TO BE.
> 
> I can't believe our boy was a last-minute romance addition. I wonder who I'd ship with the Inquisitor otherwise...

Trevelyan woke, disoriented and bruised. A wind blew from the tunnel before her. There was but one way to go. She picked herself up and began limping.

There. Light at the end. Had she survived, after all? A rift flared to life before her, spawning several demons. Trevelyan hesitated. Not only was she without a staff, she was also completely drained of magic. As she slowly backed up, her marked hand began to itch, and she shook it. A powerful force dragged the demons towards the rift and closed it. What was…?

She was too tired to think of it now, and staggered outside.

Cold. Horribly cold. The wind howled around her, enchanter's coat too thin to prevent her body heat from being stripped away. Nothing was distinguishable through the dark and the wrath of wind-carried snow. The ruins of a cart were nearby. She had to keep moving forward, to try. No energy for fire magic. The cold bit into her skin painfully, and she trudged towards imagined light.

A small campfire-- but it was cold. They couldn't have gone too far. Would they look for her? Had Corypheus found them after all? She shivered violently and floundered through the forest for what seemed an age. Her limbs felt numb and clumsy.

They would be above the tree line, Cullen had said. She made her way upwards. Another campfire. Embers. Recent? The snow was thick and unmarked. It took immeasurable effort to put one foot ahead of another. She could barely go on. It wasn't so cold anymore. In fact, she thought…perhaps it was warm. Warm enough to sleep…because she felt sleepy, all of a sudden. Was that real light in the distance, or was it her imagination?

 

* * *

  

Cullen watched the pass between the rocks, silent. Varric had fallen asleep next to the campfire.

In the morning, they would move. He thought about it all. If they had prepared more…if they had seen the red templars coming sooner…she wouldn't have had to sacrifice herself. Fate, luck, or providence had marked her and she had accepted it as graciously as she could, given her life to it. Maker, he promised to never forget Lady Leila Trevelyan. One gauntleted hand curled into a painfully tight fist. Wolves howled in the distance. A mabari in the camp began to bark. Still he watched from the top of the pass.

 

A woman's figure?

He was running before he knew what he was doing. "It's her!" he shouted, hoarse from relief. Cassandra followed behind. "Thank the Maker!"

 

* * *

 

Cullen and Cassandra's voices. She was safe now. Trevelyan let herself fall to the ground.

It really was her, covered in half-dry, half-frozen blood and shivering violently. He wrapped her in his coat and picked her up. As Cullen carried Trevelyan to camp, relief and worry twisted and knotted inside him.

Immediately there was a fuss as he approached. Three soldiers rushed towards him. Sera threw blankets and coats all over--who had she stolen those from? Solas came to examine Trevelyan's hand. Dorian fussed off to the side-- insisted he use flame magic to warm her-- and Vivienne had already efficiently organized a tent for use, with the best spirit healers available.

He let the mages take her situation out of his hands. Judging from their expressions, it looked like Trevelyan would survive. Even so, guilt and fear consumed him. She had survived this time by some miracle, but what about the next? Why had he allowed her to stay behind so easily? Was she expendable to him, now with the Breach sealed? If only he'd prepared more, or…or…

There was a small commotion. Apparently Trevelyan had awoken and was attempting to recount her story through chattering teeth. Eventually, Leliana finished her information gathering and shooed everyone away. Cullen took this opportunity to draw closer.

Trevelyan looked up and smiled weakly at his approach. She was wrapped tightly in a blanket, her blood-soaked gear set off to the side. A fresh wave of guilt, sadness, and something else Cullen couldn't identify hit him.

"You're alive, thank the Maker," she said hoarsely. He nodded. "And so am I, somehow." Her soft chuckle turned into a succession of sneezes.

"You need your rest," he said, alarmed, drawing back.

"No! Please stay," she entreated. "I wanted to thank you for giving me a choice. If you had forced me to flee, I don't know that I could live with myself knowing that I could have done something. Thank you."

"I think we should all be thanking you, Hera--Lady Trevelyan."

She shook her head and sneezed a few more times. Mother Giselle swooped in. "That's enough, Commander. The Herald of Andraste must rest."

 

* * *

 

Trevelyan floated back to consciousness hours later. She struggled to prop herself up.

"Shh. You need rest." Mother Giselle was watching over her.

Trevelyan was sure she had heard arguing in her dreams. "They've been at it for hours."

"They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten as much as this Corypheus."

"I…I should be there, helping them," Trevelyan said weakly.

"And add another voice to the argument? Our situation-- your situation-- is complicated. Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand…and fall. And now, we have seen her return."

Trevelyan finally sat up. She was under a strange overabundance of blankets and coats.

"The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure? What we, perhaps, must come to believe?"

Leila sighed. "I escaped the avalanche. Barely, perhaps, but I didn't die."

"Of course. And the dead cannot return from across the Veil. But the people know what they saw. Or, perhaps, what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?"

Mother Giselle's faith was so strong. Trevelyan wished she could be the same. "Mother Giselle, I just don't see how what I believe matters. Lies or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat. We can't match that with hope alone. Andraste had direct help from the Maker. I… don't have any of that."

She leaned against the tent post as she gazed out towards the camp. The advisers were all split up, at a loss about what to do. Trevelyan sighed.

"Shadows fall and hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come." A rich voice sang out. It was Mother Giselle.

"The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come."

It was an old song she had often heard in the Chantry as a young girl--before her magical abilities had awakened and she was just the little Trevelyan girl praised for her cleverness and sweet disposition.

She could hear Leliana's voice joining in, now, and Cullen's. The Inquisition--or what was left of it-- came to kneel and stand before her, singing. Trevelyan stayed silent, touched by their faith but unsure of her own. It was hard to believe in divine signs when you yourself were meant to be that sign.

"An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause." Mother Giselle was by her side now.

"A word?" Solas beckoned Trevelyan aside. She wondered what he thought about all of this-- he seemed neither to believe in the Elven Creators, nor in the Maker. She listened to his explanations carefully.

"There is a place that waits for a force to hold it," he said. She was thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was your Inquisitor very pious? I could never bring any of my own to be, but then again, I'm not very religious.  
> There's a sort of lovely certainty and calm that deeply faithful people exude, sometimes. I imagine Mother Giselle to be one of those people. I know the community kind of hates her for picking on Dorian. I don't think she's beyond forgiveness.
> 
> Next chapter: Inquisitor Trevelyan realizes something very important >:3c


	12. Since When?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smiled at her, and she felt…shy. He didn't smile like this often, and it was often a secret triumph for her to get him to do so.
> 
> "Our escape from Haven…it was close," she said softly, looking at him. "I am relieved that you--" Trevelyan looked off to the side. "That so many made it out." Her eyes returned to his face.
> 
> "As am I," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This couple gives me life. Thank you, Bioware. Don't screw up DA4.
> 
> Get prepared for a lot of romance in the coming chapters. A lot. So much fluff. Suffocate in it.

Inquisitor Trevelyan. It sounded so strange. She wondered if she could ever get anyone to call her by name-- although, she had to admit, she liked Inquisitor better than Herald of Andraste. Trevelyan was doing this because it was right, with or without the Maker's divine providence.

It had been a busy and tense few weeks through the mountains, and she had concentrated her efforts on scouting, hunting, and helping heal. Now, she could finally rest. Renovations were underway. She was glad to see that the people had settled into Skyhold comfortably. With luck, they could rebuild. It would take considerable effort to amass enough influence to get an invitation to Halamshiral, though. Meanwhile, there were a host of tasks to undertake throughout Thedas.

Trevelyan strolled through the grounds, exploring spaces and greeting friends. Somehow, her horses had made it through the ordeal at Haven, too, and they had dutifully carried their share of the young, weak, and wounded. She patted the nose of her Orlesian Charger affectionately. It was a beautiful animal without all the barding and mane-braiding, and she rather suspected the horse itself preferred being without all the ostentatious pomp of a chevalier's steed.

She spied Cullen giving orders from a makeshift table made from stacked wooden crates. He looked like he hadn't slept, yet his hair was still styled perfectly. Curly was still Curly. She smiled at the thought and greeted him.

He was in full Commander mode. "We set up as best we could at Haven, but could never prepare for an Archdemon--or whatever it was. With some warning, we might have…" He rubbed his neck. It ached.

She looked up at him. "Do you _ever_ sleep?"

He sighed and continued while looking over a waiting report. "If Corypheus strikes again, we may not be able to withdraw… and I wouldn't want to. We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is under way, guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor."

It was evident that he blamed himself--at least partially--for what happened at Haven. That, compounded with his workaholic tendencies… "How many were lost?" Trevelyan asked.

"Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse. Morale was low, but has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor."

Trevelyan felt unsatisfied. She had meant to talk and offer him support as a friend, not as the Inquisitor. She tried to pass through his work-barrier again with a small smile and a different tactic.

"Inquisitor Trevelyan. It sounds odd, don't you think?"

"Not at all."

She quirked an eyebrow. Again with the formality. "Is that the official response?"

His lips finally curved into a half-smile. "I suppose it is. But it's the truth." He stood up from the table to look at her directly. "We needed a leader; you have proven yourself."

"Thank you, Cullen."

He smiled at her, and she felt…shy. He didn't smile like this often, and it was often a secret triumph for her to get him to do so.

"Our escape from Haven…it was close," she said softly, looking at him. "I am relieved that you--" Trevelyan looked off to the side. "That so many made it out." Her eyes returned to his face.

"As am I," he said. They fell silent. Trevelyan felt the sudden impulse to run away. Her face grew warm. _Since when, Leila? How long have you held feelings for him?_

"You stayed behind." His voice was quiet. "You could have-- I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word," he promised.

She nodded and took the opportunity of a newly delivered report to hurry away.

Her heart was beating fast. Maker. He was so…

She bounded up the stairs and threw herself onto her bed. Cullen was…

The way he smiled was…

She buried her face in a pillow. _Leila Evelyn Trevelyan. Are you a foolish young apprentice?_

 _No! You are a lady of House Trevelyan, a full-fledged Circle member and Enchantress. A talented mage who was expected to one day be First Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle in the Free Marches!_ _And he is--he is a Fereldan man, a templar, who you, if your life had gone normally, should never have met! And even if you had, you could never be together! Mage and templar? The absurdity!_

But it wasn't so absurd, was it? She remembered Ellendra from the Hinterland Crossroads. And…Kirkwall was not so far from Ostwick… but it was absurd. How many times had they disagreed and argued on policy because he distrusted mages? She sighed in frustration. Yes, that was the core of the matter. He didn't like mages, and she was a mage. But she fancied that he thought of her as a person, as a friend--

And even if she hadn't been a mage…she thought about all the stupid things he'd seen her do. Yell at the sky, collapse in the snow--twice! Cry like a child… and there was that one time she'd gracefully tripped over a crate of potatoes…and then that time he'd stumbled across her clumsily picking out the chords to Once We Were while singing. Maker, what a fool she must have seemed to him. No, there would be no chance of it happening.

Did she even want it to happen? _Yes_ , she thought guiltily. But it was also selfish, wasn't it? There were more pressing issues at hand.

She sat up and tried to think of it objectively.

_Since when?_

He had always been attractive. But maybe that one time they'd laughed really hard together over that really, really stupid joke in Haven?

Trevelyan wanted to hit her head against the wall. This was not the time to pursue a doomed relationship. Even if Cullen could come to love a mage, there was a deranged, powerful darkspawn out there wielding an ancient elven artifact, riding an Archdemon, commanding an insane red templar army, planning to assassinate the Empress of Orlais with a legion of demons and become a god. Not to mention the civil war in Orlais and simmering mage-templar conflict.

And none of this rationality helped much. It seemed she would just have to do her duty as Inquisitor and pine after her own Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: not in Kirkwall ;)
> 
> I'm getting giddy off of my own writings. How is this even possible.


	13. Not in Kirkwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Commander?" She asked in as even-toned a manner as she could muster, still turned towards the bookshelf. "Did you leave anyone behind in Kirkwall?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You go, Cullen. Flirt up the Inquisitor! You can do it! Not yet? Okay... :(

A few days passed before they spoke in private again. She had absentmindedly been running around the battlements, admiring the view, still exploring, when she opened a door and found herself in an office of sorts. She looked around, fingers tracing the spines of books on the shelves, when another door opened.

"Inquisitor? Was there something you wished to discuss?" Cullen asked.

She whirled around, taken aback. So this was _his_ office, then?

"I--ah…yes. Is there anything I should know?"

"Not at present." He walked to his desk. Their last war table meeting had been barely three hours ago, after all. She turned back to the bookshelf in a slight panic. She pulled one of the books out, and began flipping through it before the realization hit her.

Cullen had never mentioned a lover, but perhaps he did have one. Perhaps she'd been making a fool of herself this whole time.

"Commander?" She asked in as even-toned a manner as she could muster, still turned towards the bookshelf. "Did you leave anyone behind in Kirkwall?"

"No. I fear I made few friends there, and my family's in Ferelden," he answered grimly.

She despised herself for the elation she felt. Hadn't she resolved a relationship was impossible? "…I see. No one special caught your interest?" She asked casually, closing the book and sliding it back onto the shelf.

He glanced at her back, wondering how best to answer short of lying about how his thoughts had sometimes drifted toward her. "Not in Kirkwall," he said.

Not in Kirkwall. Then, here? Or…elsewhere? Or…not at all? Where? Who? She badly wanted to know, but…she bit her lip. "That will be all for now."

Relieved that she'd dropped the line of questioning, Cullen simply replied, "I'm sure you have other matters to attend to," before returning to his duties.

 

* * *

 

 

> (This chapter was incredibly short, so have this little bonus:)

 

"So how many people have you bewitched, Curious?"

"I try not to use magic on people unless necessary, Varric."

"I don't know, I'm sure there are a lot of people who'd swear otherwise."

Raised eyebrow.

"Oh, come on Curious. You're a beautiful and intelligent woman. Putting someone like you near dozens of Chantry boys is just asking for trouble."

"Woof," Sera added.

"Hmm. Will you two be satisfied if I tell you the templars once confiscated badly written poetry about raven locks and emerald eyes?"

"Ooh. That's just so awfully uncreative, I have to hear some. Tell me you can recite some samples."

Snort. "None of it actually made it to my hands."

"I bet if we had Curly write some about you, it'd be pretty darn close."

Her heart skipped a beat. How did Varric know she-- "Why Cullen?" She eyed Varric suspiciously.

Varric looked the perfect picture of innocence and surprise. "Don't be ridiculous, Curious. Curly? Ex-templar?"

"Oh, of course. Silly me."

"Why, is there someone else you'd like to have writing love poetry to you? I've gotta know."

"No! …No, there isn't. What I mean to say is, I don't need any love poetry. That's Cassandra's cup of tea. Maker, Varric."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Varric know? He won't tell me.
> 
> Next chapter: Cullen gets j e a l o u s. Just a little bit.


	14. Eager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen, still irritated, stalked into the War Room. 
> 
> "That Dalish elf who joined us is eager to say the least," he muttered.
> 
> Leliana looked up. "The Dalish possess great knowledge. We should be honored to have him with us," she said disapprovingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of real war table dialogue in the game. I looked at it, and my imagination ran wild. 
> 
> Enjoy Cullen's mild jealousy.

Cullen was overseeing the recruits' training in the courtyard. People had been pouring in since news of the Inquisitor's miraculous escape from Haven, and some of them even knew which end of a sword to hold it by. His attention wandered to the rest of Skyhold. Blackwall was sitting down with Solas with cards in their hands; the elven apostate had a mild look on his face, but Blackwall looked like he was about to explode. Seggritt was carrying wooden crates with a sour expression. Serves him right, Cullen thought. Then there was that new Dalish scout Trevelyan had picked up in the Exalted Plains.

"The Inquisitor personally gained the trust of my clan so I could come to Skyhold," the scout was saying to another elf, "When I saw her in Halin'suhlan, I just knew I wanted to follow."

"Creators! I thought you joined because you wanted to help fight Corypheus, not follow a woman."

"Yes, but…" A dreamy sigh. "Have you seen her smile? …Her companion, the child of the Stone. He called her Curious. Is that her name?" Cullen was inclined to agree; Trevelyan's smile was bewitching. Not that he would ever say so out loud.

The other elf laughed. "That must be Master Tethras. He does not call anyone by name. I believe the Inquisitor's name is Leila Trevelyan."

"Leila…that is nice. Does it mean something?"

The Inquisitor was walking towards the tents where the injured lay. The scout called out and ran towards her. "Lady Inquisitor!"

She stopped. "Hello, Loranil. I hope everything is well?"

A breathless reply. "It's more amazing than I could have imagined. If- if you have some time, could I offer you a drink, my lady?"

She smiled. Cullen felt distinctly irritated at how happy that made the Dalish elf. "Thank you. I'll pass on the drink, though I would love to learn more about life in the clan some other time."

"Yes. I can write you a full report, if you'd like." Loranil was still following her towards the tents.

"Oh! If it's not too much trouble," Trevelyan said, a little confused as to why anyone would want to. She bent down over an injured soldier and had a quick word with the surgeon.

"It's no trouble at all, my lady. Is there anything in particular you'd like to know?" Loranil offered.

Trevelyan was concentrating spirit magic on the soldier's shoulder. "Ah…give me that bandage?"

Loranil was happy to oblige, and Cullen was sure the young man's hand lingered on Trevelyan's as he handed it over. A recruit near Cullen who wasn't holding a shield properly received an angry earful, and was only saved by the arrival of a messenger.

"Commander? Sister Leliana and Ambassador Josephine would like to see you in the War Room."

"Not the Inquisitor?" Cullen snapped.

"I was told to bring Inquisitor Trevelyan as well."

 

* * *

 

Cullen, still irritated, stalked into the War Room. 

"That Dalish elf who joined us is _eager_ to say the least," he muttered.

Leliana looked up. "The Dalish possess great knowledge. We should be honored to have him with us," she said disapprovingly.

Cullen grabbed a report off the table and threw himself into a chair, but said nothing.

A few minutes later, Trevelyan walked in while brushing dirt off of her jacket sleeve. "Leliana, I apologize in advance if you receive an one-hundred page long report on the Dalish lifestyle this week. Loranil offered to tell me over drinks, but I'm afraid I have neither the time nor stamina to drink for seven hours straight."

Josephine let out a very unladylike snort. "The young man worships you, Inquisitor. Perhaps Leliana can find him something to do."

Trevelyan sighed. "Why would he? I thought the Dalish, at least, would refrain from seeing me as holy."

"That's not exactly how it is--" Cullen began, pausing awkwardly.

Trevelyan looked surprised. "You've met Loranil, Commander?"

Josephine threw up her hands. "None of us have met Loranil exactly, Inquisitor, but anyone can see that the boy is completely infatuated with you."

"What?" Trevelyan gasped. "We barely know each other. No. Oh, no. That's… oh Maker, so many things suddenly make sense."

"I-- this is unnecessary." Cullen protested. "Can we discuss what we were summoned for?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, Loranil, for using you this way. I'm sure you're a cooler guy than this. Who knows?  
> Hopefully Cullen didn't come off as racist, or overly possessive. He's neither of those things (at least in my mind).
> 
> Next chapter: the serious lyrium discussion, and then a return to fluff.


	15. Cullen Cannot Stop Smiling

Commander Cullen smiled as he reprimanded the scout that had forgotten to report to him.

Commander Cullen smiled as he corrected a new recruit's sword fighting posture.

Commander Cullen smiled as he received troubling news about Carta operations in the Hinterlands.

Commander Cullen rarely smiled when he gave praise, and he definitely did not smile when he found fault.

 

"I think the Commander's broken," one Inquisition soldier whispered to another.

"Brain fever for certain," one scout nodded with all the gravity of a sage healer.

 

Scout Lace Harding wore a smug grin on her face, but said nothing.

 

A new soldier ran up to the barkeep of the Herald's Rest. "Cold ale," he said mournfully.

 Someone clapped him on the back. "What's gotten you down, Sam?"

 "Got chewed out by the Commander. I didn't even _do_ anything. Maker, he was terrifying! But how was _I_ supposed to know?! He gave me so much to do after, that it took the entire day," Sam wailed.

 "He's been smiling the whole day. What in Thedas did you do to make him angry?"

Sam looked around the room, then leaned in and whispered something.

 " _What?!_ "

 

Soon all the barracks knew: Sam walked in on the Commander and the Inquisitor at daybreak, at which time the Inquisitor professed her undying love for the Commander in a beautiful speech that would make any grown man weep. The Commander responded by saying some variation of "Then I'm yours now, until the end of time" or  "Then you're mine now (evil laugh)", depending on what the person you heard the story from thought of Commander Cullen. Then the two sealed the affair with a passionate kiss beneath the stars.

Leliana laughed wickedly as she personally wrote a report detailing this story, which mysteriously appeared on Cullen's desk almost immediately afterwards. But no matter how much Commander Cullen despised reading that ridiculous report, he couldn't stop smiling.


End file.
